


Sunday Ceremony

by linksofmemories



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Fingerfucking, First Kiss, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Rimming, serial killer!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:39:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linksofmemories/pseuds/linksofmemories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be completely honest, he had no idea when it started. It had started early, he knew that, but he didn’t know an exact day or month or year. It was almost as if one day he had woken up with this twitch in his right hand and this dryness in the back of his throat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [messyjessy08](https://archiveofourown.org/users/messyjessy08/gifts).



> First, read the warnings and additional tags. Read them. Do it. Like seriously kids read the warnings. Even though I really hope you guys aren't kids.
> 
> Second, this is very different from what I usually write. If you're not familiar with what I usually write, it's normally fluffy and funny with some angst and goofiness and this fic is not like that at all. So if you're expecting this fic to be like my other stuff, it won't be.
> 
> So, yeah. I hope you like it and I won't have anymore notes until the very end, so I guess I'll see you there! :))

He hadn’t been quiet.

And that was the funny thing, wasn’t it? Because whenever someone talked about a serial killer they always said how they didn’t suspect it, how they had been _so quiet_. He had kept to himself, sure, but he hadn’t been quiet. Because believe it or not, but quiet actually drew more attention than smiling and charming and popular.

Of course he couldn’t keep it a secret from Laura, because Laura had always been there. Watching him carefully, asking him cautious questions, looking through his stuff when she thought he was out. One night he had even heard her on the phone with someone, some private investigator he found out later, sounding so desperate to believe that _it couldn’t be him_ , _there was just no way he was_ capable.

Except that he was capable.

And she knew it too.

To be completely honest, he had no idea when it started. It had started early, he knew that, but he didn’t know an exact day or month or year. It was almost as if one day he had woken up with this twitch in his right hand and this dryness in the back of his throat.

The first one had been easy, just a matter of going deep into the woods one Sunday morning, taking the pocket knife his father said that he should never be without, and sinking it into a tiny blue bird that was looking around the forest floor for insects. He had been fast and quiet and precise, slicing off the wing and beak, hiding the remains under leaves that had fallen to the ground. Afterwards he had cried, thinking about the bird and how he had just taken its life away. It had been tiny, probably just having left the nest.

But he had controlled it. He had controlled the end of that bird’s life. It had been concentrated and tangible and he had taken an open opportunity.

He headed back to the house, going to the water hose in the back by his aunt’s garden, and washing off his hands and knife. Laura had walked outside just as the blood washed off of his hands, red making the water turn pink. He had looked up, watched her blink a few times in confusion, before shaking her head and telling him to come inside.

It became something of a routine. Most people went to church and prayed every Sunday morning. He, on the other hand, sunk his knife into any living thing he could find. There were still times that he cried, over a rabbit or a chipmunk or another small bird. But the bigger the targets got, the less upset he got. The young doe he killed a year into it all had been a revelation.

Her eyes had been wide and fearful and just as she was about to dash off, he had thrown his knife, hitting her in the leg. She had stumbled to the forest floor, leg twitching as she tried to stand back up. He had walked slowly toward her before taking the knife out of her leg. She tried to stand again, but he was faster, knife driving into her chest again and again and again.

It wasn’t until she was dead, eyes frozen open, chest carved to ribbons, and blood spilling from her, brilliant and bright red, did he finally feel his hand start to still. The dryness in his throat was weaker as well and he felt _new_. He didn’t feel sad, he felt in control.

Hiding the body wasn’t something he had thought through. But would hiding it really be necessary? There were mountain lions in the preserve and it wasn’t uncommon for a doe to get killed by one. He had a knife and his art teacher always told him that he had a good eye. After long minutes of carving into the doe, he finally stepped back, satisfied that it looked like claws had ripped through the flesh.

His father had been convinced as well. The family went on hikes on random mornings, his mother waking him up early in the morning and almost dragging him out of bed. He pulled on his clothes, hair still tousled as he went into the kitchen, eating whatever his aunt had made for breakfast. Laura always wanted to be at the back of the group, walking slowly and taking her time and he usually joined her, too tired to charge forward with his father and uncle and younger cousins.

When they finally reached the body of the doe, the kids were instructed to stay back, to look away. His father had crouched down next to it along with his uncle, scrutinizing it.

“Mountain lion,” his father said sadly. “You can see the claw marks.”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded, standing back up.

Peter didn’t look as convinced though.

He looked at Laura who was looking at him with something like shock and it only took him half a second to realize that his mouth was twitched up in a grin. The corners of his mouth were then forced to turn down and he looked away, noticing the flock of his younger cousins all looking scared and curious.

“It’s so sad,” Laura said, turning away as well. “It was really young, probably tried to run away and couldn’t.”

Her words were a test, there was no way that they weren’t, and he didn’t know how to answer them. Everything that he said wouldn’t change her mind of what she thought, so it was best to just say the truth.

“There’s nothing you could have done, Laura,” he said. “You couldn’t have stopped it.”

“Stopped what?” she asked. “The doe dying or the mountain lion?”

“Both,” he shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets before heading toward the rest of the group.

That had been about a year ago and it still hadn’t slowed him down. There were more does and deer and even a mountain lion cub once. It was easy and there wasn’t a challenge and Laura continued to look at him with knowing and accusatory eyes. He loved his sister, she was his best friend and they told each other everything.

Well, he didn’t tell her about his Sunday ritual, but that was for good reason.

He was 15 and bored and there had been nothing but squirrels and rabbits surrounding him on that Sunday morning. They were allowed to live though, even if he killed hundreds of them, it wouldn’t stop his hand from shaking and his mouth feeling like sandpaper. Even does had stopped quenching his thirst, but he wasn’t stupid enough to try and go after an adult mountain lion.

It was taking hours of walking around and he was almost resigned to find a bird nest or something, when he heard talking. The voice belonged to a woman and she sounded panicked, probably talking into a phone instead of to herself.

“I’m off the trail,” she said. “I don’t know where I am and all of these trees look the same. Dammit, just come find me. I don’t care that you don’t get off work for a few more hours, _find me_.”

He followed the voice, hand gripping his knife in his pocket. He walked through a few thickets of trees before coming across a teenage girl, probably a year or two older than him, with perfectly curled blonde hair and wearing clothes that weren’t made for hiking. Part of him recognized her as a cheerleader from his school, the other part recognized her as a heartbeat.

Time to use the charming golden boy routine.

“Are you lost?”

She jumped, clutching her phone tighter and looking at him, her eyes wide. “Jesus, you scared me!”

“Sorry,” he shrugged, stepping toward her. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The girl, Heather (he was pretty sure that was her name, he was also pretty sure that she was the captain of the cheerleading squad), tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, watching him closing. “Why are you out here?”

“My house is on the preserve,” he shrugged. “I was just taking a walk. I’ve lived here my entire life, I can help you get back on the trail.”

“Really?” she asked, still looking skeptical. “I mean, that’s nice, but my boyfriend—”

“Doesn’t get off work for a few more hours?”

“Uh, yeah,” she nodded. “He thought a walk through the preserve would be romantic. But I’m just cold and lost and—”

“I can show you the way out,” he pressed. “It’s no big deal.”

There was a pause and she looked down at her phone before looking back up at him. He knew what his reputation at school was; star player of the lacrosse team, the darling little brother of Laura Hale who had graduated last year. He was class president with straight A’s and teachers tripping over themselves to be the first to write him college recommendations in a few years. He was smart and trustworthy and kind and accomplished.

And apparently Heather knew that because she smiled at him, tucking her phone back into her pocket.

“I didn’t recognize you at first, but you’re Derek Hale, aren’t you?” she asked.

“That’s me.”

“I hear all about you at school,” she said. “Is it true that you’re part of like, 20 clubs?”

“More like eight.”

“That’s still a lot.”

They started to walk through the woods, away from the trail. She wouldn’t know where he was leading her. He’d have to be more careful this time. They would investigate the murder of a human, not like they would a doe.

And was he really going to do this? Kill another human being? Of course he was, this opportunity was too tempting to just let go.

“So, do you have a girlfriend?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m too busy.”

“That makes sense,” she nodded. “I bet girls are lining up though. Boys too, I heard. You’re really popular.”

“I never asked for popularity.”

“Asked for it or not, you’ve still got it.”

She was smiling broadly now and her voice was started to annoy him, his hand practically vibrating around the knife still in his pocket.

“I know you’re just a sophomore, but are you looking into colleges yet?” she asked. “Thinking of somewhere local? I bet you could get into Harvard if you—”

It didn’t matter that she was human. She bled just like a doe. Her eyes were wide and blood trickled out of her mouth and down the front of her coat. He withdrew the knife from her chest, stabbing her again once more time with the same depth to it. And again. And again. And again.

She fell to the ground and he continued, raking the knife through her body, making sure the cuts were jagged enough. Eventually he was satisfied and he just kneeled next to her, knife in his hand and blood seeping onto her coat and down onto the ground.

Derek stood up, frowning down at her before feeling something new well up inside of him. He was still and satisfied and _calm_. Everything was quiet and serene and he let out of deep sigh, a weight seemingly lifted from his shoulders.

The police found her body within a few days and Deputy Stilinski came around for questions soon. Derek admitted to taking a walk that Sunday morning, but lied about where he went. They didn’t suspect him though, he was 15 and Derek Hale and there was no way he was capable of hurting anyone. Besides, it looked like a mountain lion attack and they weren’t too concerned about a killer on the loose.

After the deputy had left, Derek had headed back upstairs to his room, running into Laura in the hallway. She was leaning against the wall, arms folded across her chest, and a frown on her face.

“It’s terrible what happened,” she said. “Heather was really sweet. She didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m pretty sure a mountain lion didn’t care that she was sweet, Laura.”

She looked away from him then, opening the door to her room and escaping inside.

Laura wasn’t a problem. She didn’t know anything for sure and she would never tell their parents about her suspicions. Besides, who would believe her?

After making his first human kill he didn’t go out for a few months. He forgot about it for a while. His hand didn’t shake and his wasn’t thirsty and Laura looked him in the eye again and he studied for tests and hung out with friends and played sports and just _was_. He deluded himself into thinking that he was done. That killing her had finished it.

Except that it hadn’t. He woke up one Sunday morning, when it was still dark outside and the entire house was quiet. His body shook and he couldn’t even swallow, something was blocking his throat. He got out of bed, walking to the hall bathroom and gulping down a cup of tap water. It didn’t help and he looked up at his reflection in the mirror.

He was pale and shaking and his eyes looked like they were bloodshot. It was like he was a druggie and the withdrawal had only then kicked in.

After slipping on a jacket and putting his shoes on, he headed outside, hand gripped around a pocket knife. He walked through the preserve almost in a daze, feeling like his body was possessed. There was a tent in the distance and inside the tent were a sleeping man and woman. And then they were screaming and then they were dead.

Derek was walking back from the tent, still shaking but better. His palms felt clammy, but his head was clearing. He could feel his heart pounded in his chest, heat creeping up on his cheeks.

It wasn’t until he slipped back into his bed, having washed off in the basement bathroom, that he realized he was hard. He groaned, tilting his head back against his pillow and sinking down into his mattress. His cock was aching and he stuffed a hand down his pants, bringing a hand around himself before jerking off.

The lack of lubrication didn’t even bother him. With just a few strokes he was coming, panting into the crease of his elbow and spots appearing in front of his eyes. He changed his underwear before curling back up in his bed and falling asleep.

Apparently killing two people kept it away even longer. The police were convinced that the second attack had been a murder, but Derek wasn’t even close to being a suspect. They never found the killer and soon the case was dropped.

Laura still looked at him with fear, but he learned to ignore it.

He was 16 and just starting his junior year when he met her. She was eight years older and beautiful and smart. Her name was Kate Argent and her family ran a private detective agency. The couple in the woods’ family had hired the Argents to do what the police had given up on. Kate had been their elected agent for the case.

She came to the Hale house first, interviewing all of them separately. After all of the adults, Derek was next and he was more than ready. Nothing pinned him to the murder other than the fact that he lived in the woods and his entire family did as well. There was nothing to worry about.

“Take a seat, Derek,” Kate said once he entered the living room, motioned toward the couch across from the armchair she was sitting in. “I’m assuming you know why you’re here.”

“Yeah, you think someone in my family killed that couple in the woods.”

“I do,” she nodded. “And your sister thinks that you did it.”

Derek looked up at that, panic curling up inside of him, but trying his best to turn the panic into confusion.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” he said. “Laura wouldn’t say that—you’re just saying that to see if I would panic or not.”

“And do you have a reason to panic?”

“No,” he said. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Well I am.”

“But can you prove that you didn’t kill anyone?”

“I was asleep just like everyone else,” Derek said. “I can’t prove that I wasn’t.”

She watched him for a few moments, being careful to look outraged and angry. He _had_ killed those people so he didn’t have a reason to be outraged and angry, but his innocent façade did.

Kate wrote something down on a notepad before leaning forward.

“Do you have any idea who would do this?” she asked.

“No,” Derek said. “Why would someone kill two people in the woods? Maybe it was a personal grudge.”

“The couple owned a bakery in town, they were nice, peaceful,” Kate said. “Not a lot of enemies there.”

“Everyone has secrets.”

“Do you?”

“I said everyone, didn’t I?”

She leaned back against the chair, the corner of her mouth tugged up into a grin. Kate closed her notepad before standing up, shaking her head.

“You’re smart,” she said. “And kind of a brat. But you didn’t do it.”

He watched her leave, slipping on her coat and talking to his parents before heading to the foyer. His parents had been so annoyed by her coming there, not understanding how anyone in their family could be a murderer. Derek left the living room, seeing Laura standing across the hall.

“That was a waste of time,” he said.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Pointless.”

The first time he fucked Kate was a week later. He was the captain of the lacrosse team and he had gotten a girlfriend, Maggie. Well, it was more like Maggie had come up to him saying that it made sense for them to date since they were the two most popular people in their class and he hadn’t any reasons for them not to.

He told Kate about it in her bed in her apartment or in the backseat of her car or wherever else they could find. She thought it was funny, high school relationships and petty drama. Her laugh rubbed him the wrong way though, and he would clamp a hand over her mouth before driving back into her, her nails digging into the skin of his arms.

His first time with Maggie had been a lot tamer. She had a party at her house since her parents were gone for the weekend and he had spent the night. It had been cliché and almost painful to go through, trying not to make a face at the bright pink lace underwear she had clad herself in. He had played the part of the blushing virgin perfectly, fumbling with her bra strap and the condom and not getting the right angle on purpose.

She had told him that it would get better, rubbing a hand up and down his back soothingly.

The next day he had gone to Kate’s apartment, grabbing her as soon as she opened the door and fucked her against the wall. No amount of mindless fucking could stop the twitch from coming back though. He needed to make another kill and soon.

It was Sunday morning and he was getting ready to head out. Maybe he would drive to a different town, start spacing out his kills. He did know that he couldn’t risk another hiker or camper in the woods.

But the woods were his place though. They were sacred and his and the bloodshed there was what he needed. But what could he get rid of? What was something that would help the twitch?

The thought hit him like a ton of bricks and he groaned, his mouth twitching up into a grin. That’d be perfect. Everything about that would be perfect. Was it too soon though? Should he really act so quickly on something so grand?

Of course he should.

The twitch would have to wait for a week though because knifing everyone in the house wasn’t an option. He needed supplies and it was going to take a while to get everything.

Kate was a great way to let out all of his pent-up aggression though. It was Saturday night and she wouldn’t stop kissing him even though he had just fucked her into the mattress. Her hands were tangled in his hair and she was smiling against his mouth before leaning away.

“I can’t wait until you’re 18,” she said. “We won’t have to hide then.”

“Yeah,” he said absentmindedly. “That’ll be great.”

He sat up, looking at the pile of his clothes on the floor. Tomorrow was the day and he needed to be well-rested for it.

“You don’t seem very happy about going public,” she said. “Does this have to do with Maggie?”

“No,” he said. “I just don’t like lying to my parents.”

“You’re such a good boy,” Kate said. “I loved lying to my parents. Still do.”

Derek left soon after that, heading back to the house and trying not to think about Kate. He liked her, but what they had wasn’t permanent. Maybe one day she would be the one he killed, but that wouldn’t be for a while.

The next morning he woke up early, grabbing all of his supplies and getting started. To make it look like he had just been out for a walk he couldn’t take anything of importance with him. He couldn’t save anything that he wouldn’t take with him on a walk.

Everyone was asleep, completely unaware and ignorant and he thought about it before he lit the match. Did he really want to do this? Did he really want to kill his entire family? He would never get them back, never be able to see them again.

But the twitch had gotten so bad and the gasoline was already poured and there was nothing else he could do now. This might not cure him, but it would help for years.

He lit the match, started the fire, and ran into the woods. He ran as fast as he could, distancing himself and repeating his story again and again. He always took a walk every Sunday morning, something his mother had told almost everyone in Beacon Hills. He had been gone for just an hour. He smelled smoke and the house was in flames.

The story wasn’t foolproof, but no one would think he did it. He was Derek Hale, he wouldn’t kill his entire family, he wasn’t capable of doing such a thing.

Everything would be fine, everything would be perfect, everything except for Kate running toward him. She wrapped an arm around his middle, tackling him to the ground and kneeing him in the stomach.

“You little shit,” she hissed. “I already called the fire department and when they get here—”

“They’ll put out a search for who burned my family alive,” he said. “And then they’ll find your body after you killed yourself.”

She let out a hysterical laugh at that, tilting her head back and shaking her head.

“You’re insane and such a little idiot,” she said. “Everything between us was fake, we both know that, but you’re… hard. Derek, you’re—”

Another hysterical giggle burst from her lips and she reached her hand down, cupping him through his jeans. Her eyes widened as she applied pressure, gaining a low groan from him.

“You sick little fuck,” she breathed. “You get off on this. Is that why you do it? Is this the only way that makes you feel complete, Derek? Are you really that pathe—?”

He pushed her over, pushing her onto her stomach and straddling her back. Gripping her hair, he pulled her back, gripping his knife tighter and stabbing her in the stomach.

Derek wiped the knife handle before positioning it in her hand and then getting off of her. He ran in the direction of the smoke that was coming from the sky, only stopping to lean against a tree, pushing his pants down and jerking off frantically.

His feet felt like jelly as he continued to run, running until he reached his house where there were fire trucks parked outside. He fell to his knees, looking up at the burning building and was soon surrounded by people.

“Are you all right?” Deputy Stilinski asked. “Do you know what happened? Do you know who did this?”

“My family…”

A sorrowful look came over the deputy’s face and he looked at other deputies that were started to crowd around them.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Your uncle is being taken to the hospital right now and your sister is safe, just a few minor burns. Everyone else…”

Peter and Laura were still alive.

Shit.

“My sister,” he said. “Where is—?”

“I’ll take you to her, come on,” Deputy Stilinski said, guiding Derek through the throng of people and vehicles.

Laura was sitting on the back of the ambulance, her arm burned and breathing through an oxygen mask. She saw him and her eyes went wide and he wondered. Would she turn him in? Would she tell everyone what he had down? She knew, she had always known and—

“Derek! Thank God,” she said, pushing a paramedic aside and taking the mask from her face. She stood up on shaky feet and hurried toward him, wrapping her arms around him and gripping the back of his shirt. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought you’d done this. But it was Kate Argent. She called the fire department, they’re looking for her. She has a case of arson, she was in a mental ward, and I thought it was you this entire time, but it wasn’t. You’re just my baby brother and you’re all… Oh God, you’re all I have left.”

She was crying into his chest, tears making the shirt cling to him. He didn’t care though, wrapping his arms around Laura and forcing tears to come as well. She believed in him. She thought he was innocent. He could still save Laura for later. This wasn’t all lost.

Peter was comatose and put in a nursing home. Kate’s body was found and the murders were all pinned on her along with her own suicide. Derek got a tattoo after the fire and Laura had scolded him for it, going with him and glaring as the black triskelion was etched onto his back. They moved to New York, far away from Beacon Hills, far away from everything.

Laura got a job as a waitress and they got a shitty apartment and he finished high school and applied to Yale. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, but being a surgeon had always been appealing to him.

The twitch was gone for years and sometimes he went days without even thinking about it. Laura was his best friend and older sister again and he made good grades in school and had casual relationships with men and women that didn’t have any consequences.

They were falling into an easy routine and he liked it. He liked the normalcy and the easiness and absence of pressure.

Derek was 22 and had just finished his last semester of college, graduating a semester early, when a pamphlet was put on the table in front of him.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“There’s a great med school just 20 minutes outside of Beacon Hills,” Laura said.

“Beacon Hills?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I want to go back.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s our home,” she said. “And Peter’s there and I’m tired of running and I don’t feel like we belong here.”

“I feel like I belong here.”

“Really?” she asked. “You haven’t been putting down any roots, Derek.”

She did have a point. New York wasn’t home, it was a distraction. This wasn’t who he was. He knew who he was and this wasn’t it. Beacon Hills was where his woods were, where the roots he had already planted were. Metaphorically speaking of course.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, taking the pamphlet and standing up.

He didn’t think about it though because he already knew. A few days later he’d made his decision and Laura had been more than happy about it. It was early January and he wasn’t going to start attending med school until the fall, giving him months to get a job and an apartment in Beacon Hills on his own.

They got jobs in town easily enough, but continued to live together until they both had enough money to be independent. After a few weeks of pestering, Laura finally convinced him to visit Peter.

The nursing home was empty and sterile and unnerving. His hand started twitching in the pocket of his jacket, but he stopped it. He probably still had years left, it was fine.

Half of Peter’s face was burned and mangled and he was in a comatose state, just blankly staring out of the window of his room. Derek took a seat next to him, just sitting quietly with his hands folded in his lap.

“You know, don’t you?” he asked. “You’ve always known. Ever since we found that doe in the woods. I’ve always wondered why you never turned me in. I’m not going to question it too much though; I don’t want to jinx anything.”

He leaned back in his chair, looking at Peter who was still completely unresponsive.

“I am going to kill you,” Derek said. “Someday. Not sure when, but I will. Laura too. It’s nothing personal; it’s just something I have to do.”

There was a clatter from the hallway and he looked behind him, seeing Laura standing there.

“You… No, Derek, this isn’t—” she started, frantically shaking her head.

And then she ran.

Of course he had to go after her. He could still give her a head start though.

He calmly left Peter’s room about 20 minutes later and signing out at the front desk with a different time and then heading outside. Laura’s Camaro was already gone and he calmly got into his own car, driving toward the apartment.

She was putting her things in her car when he got there.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, getting out of his own car and walking toward her.

Laura looked up at him, her eyes wide in fear before backing away from him.

“I don’t know why, we just moved in,” he said.

“Derek, you were lying to Peter, weren’t you?” she asked. “There’s no way you killed those people. It was Kate.”

“No, I killed them and Kate,” he shrugged. “And now I guess I have to kill you.”

She crumpled against the car door, shaking her head. “This isn’t you.”

“Of course it is.”

“You’re so smart, Derek,” she said. “And you’ve always had friends and a life and you’re going to be a surgeon and heal people. Derek, you can’t do that if you kill me.”

“Sure I can,” he said. “No one’s going to catch me.”

He knocked her out first and then lifted her into the passenger seat of the Camaro. No one saw and if they did he could just claim that she had had too much to drink and was taking her home. Everyone in the apartment complex were strangers and none of them knew anything about Derek and Laura Hale.

Derek drove to the preserve to finish the job.

It was his best work yet, cutting her body completely in half and finding mountain lion hairs to disperse over both parts of the body. Once he was done he headed back to the apartment to sleep.

The next day he headed to his old family house, walking through the burnt husk of a house and then the surrounding forest. He found an inhaler close to where half of Laura’s body was. He pocketed it.


	2. Chapter 2

“I could have sworn this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running, I dropped my inhaler.”

“Maybe the killer moved the body.”

“If he did I hope he left my inhaler, those things are like 80 bucks.”

And that was when the taller of the two noticed him. He slapped his friend on the shoulder as Derek walked toward them.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Huh? This is private property.”

“Uh, sorry, man,” the taller one said. “We didn’t know.”

“Yeah, we were just looking for something, but—forget it,” the other one said.

Derek reached into his pocket, grabbing the inhaler he had found earlier, and then tossed it to the owner of it. He gave them one last look before walking away.

“All right, come on, man. I gotta get to work,” Derek heard the shorter one say.

“Dude, that was Derek Hale,” the taller one said. “You remember, right? He’s only like a few years older than us.”

Probably more than a few years judging by the baby fat they both still had clinging to them.

“Remember what?”

“His family? They all burned to death in a fire like ten years ago.”

More like six years.

“Wonder what he’s doing back.”

The other one just sighed and Derek could imagine him shrugging his shoulders.

“Come on.”

Derek looked over his shoulder, watching the two boys leave. They were teenagers and probably not that bright, he wasn’t concerned that they would even investigate what they had seen in the woods last night. The shorter one seemed like a good kid who didn’t want any trouble and the taller one, well; he might have to look out for him.

He knew who Derek was and that made Derek want to know who the boy was, even the playing field.

That’d have to wait though. The next day he was called down to the police station and had to put on a show of crying when they said that they had found Laura’s body.

Deputy Stilinski was the Sheriff now and he patted Derek on the shoulder as he cried, looking at his deputies in what had to be pity.

“Son, this is just—” the Sheriff said. “I’m so sorry. You and your sister only came back here a few weeks ago and this has happened. She was a wonderful woman, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, she was,” Derek said, placing his face in his hands.

Sheriff Stilinski talked to a few of his deputies in hushed tones and Derek just continued to cry. He knew that they would probably want to drive him home and he wasn’t going to protest. Hopefully the Sheriff would be the one to drive him; it’d be good to get on his good side.

Not that he needed to.

He quickly found out that Derek Hale coming back to Beacon Hills to go to med school was a cause for celebration in this town. People still looked at him like the golden boy he was growing up and always talked nicely about his parents and family. He and Laura had had people coming to their apartment bringing food and random pieces of furniture and anything he could think of.

“Derek,” the Sheriff said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’d like to drive you back to your apartment. You’re not in any state to drive.”

After wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket, Derek looked up, blinking at the Sheriff. “Thank you. That’s really—just, thank you. I’m sorry if it’s out of your way or—”

“Nonsense,” the Sheriff said. “Absolutely no trouble at all. I just need to call my son and tell him I’ll be home a bit later.”

“Right, of course,” Derek nodded before summoning more tears and turning his head away from the Sheriff. “Sorry, a grown man shouldn’t be crying this much.”

“Don’t even say that,” Stilinski said, patting his back. “You’ve gone through so much, you deserve to cry.”

Sheriff Stilinski left then and one of his deputies came back to place a box of tissues in front of him. He nodded in thanks and yanked out a ton, wiping his eyes and loudly blowing his nose. Eventually the Sheriff came back and escorted Derek outside to the police cruiser.

“I know that the least thing you want to do right now is talk about it,” the Sheriff said. “But I lost my wife not too long ago, so I know what you’re going through.”

“So do I,” Derek said, letting bitterness seep into his voice. “I was just hoping I wouldn’t have to go through it again.”

The Sheriff winced at that, but kept his eyes on the road as he drove. “I am sorry about that. Just know that when you feel like talking, my door is always open. Actually every Wednesday my son insists on us making dinner and actually sitting down for a meal. You should drop by sometime.”

Derek would consider that a checkmate. What better way to gain the trust of the most trusted man in town than to gain his sympathy and have family dinner with his son? Besides, his son might need help with school or a sport or something and Golden Boy Derek Hale would be more than happy to step in and help. He could be a mentor to the kid, gain his trust as well, and become an honorary Stilinski of sorts.

And when he’d have to continue his Sunday ritual, no one would even think he’d be the one to do it.

“That’s very generous of you,” Derek said. “Maybe not this Wednesday, but I’ll try to make it to the next.”

“Of course,” the Sheriff said.

He parked in front of Derek’s apartment, grabbing a small pad of paper and a pen from his breast pocket. After writing an address and phone number down, he handed it to Derek with a tight smile.

“It’s good to have you back in town.”

“I wish I could say the same, Sheriff.”

“John,” the Sheriff said. “And you never know, maybe something will change your mind.”

Yeah, maybe.

After a final goodbye Derek got out of the cruiser, walking to the lobby door of the apartment building and made sure to start crying again, just in case someone was watching.

**OoOoOoO**

He didn’t leave the apartment for a week. That seemed like a reasonable amount of time to mourn.

There was a service for Laura but he didn’t attend, electing to pack up all of her things and redo her barely used bedroom into a study area. He was going to have a huge workload when he started med school in the fall and he would need a quiet place to focus. Her clothes and useless possessions were donated to Goodwill, but he made sure to keep a few odd things for sake of appearances.

When he left the apartment he went to work at the bar he had gotten hired at and to the grocery store, but nowhere else. He made sure to look sad and broken and dejected and even had a bit of a meltdown in the produce section at the supermarket.

His apartment was full of flowers and his refrigerator was full of lasagnas and casseroles.

Eventually it was time for him to move on from mourning. On a Wednesday morning he grabbed the paper Sheriff Stilinski had given him and dialed the number.

“John Stilinski speaking.”

“Sheriff, I mean John, sorry,” Derek said. “This is Derek Hale and I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer for dinner tonight?”

“Derek, I’m glad you called,” John said and Derek could actually hear that he was happy. “And of course you can come over. How about around seven?”

“That works for me,” Derek said. “I’ll see you then.”

“All right, take care.”

Derek hung up, placing his phone on the table next to him and leaning against his chair. This was good. He was getting back into the society of Beacon Hills, showing people he was recovering from the death of his sister, becoming friendly with the Sheriff and his son. He had just killed Laura, so his hand was steady and his thirst was quenched, he wouldn’t have to worry about it for a while.

Going to the preserve on Sunday mornings would still be a good idea though, make it a normal thing that he went on walks on that day. He’s fit right back into the life here in Beacon Hills and no one would concern themselves with anything regarding him.

It was still the morning, so he had some time to kill before going to work and then the Stilinski house. His mother had always told him never to go to someone’s home without a present. The Sheriff seemed like a whiskey kind of guy, so he’d buy one at the bar and bring it over after work. If this Golden Boy image was going to be withheld, he needed to do it right.

After lounging around the apartment for a few hours, he headed to work. The bar was practically empty since it was a Wednesday afternoon and he busied himself with a crossword book while waiting for new people to come and order drinks.

There was just less than an hour left in his shift when a woman came to the bar, dressed in an expensive-looking dress with her make-up running down her face. He made her a drink and was about to escape to the opposite end of the bar when she grabbed his wrist.

“I need someone to talk to,” she said, her voice high and whiny.

“I’m not that great of a talker,” he said, taking her wrist from her loose grasp.

“You look like a great listener though.”

Before he could tell her that he was a terrible listener, she launched into a story. Apparently a guy had stood her up for the third time and she was here to drink her worries away. He bit his tongue from trying to tell her that people were living in poverty and starving and that her problems were beyond minuscule, but she just kept going.

He couldn’t even walk down the bar without her crying louder and making grabby motions for him to come back. She was on her third drink and he was going to cut her off after that when she looked at him in what she probably thought was something like seduction.

“So, what time do you get off?” she asked, licking her lips slowly and sloppily.

He glanced down at his watch and let out a sigh of relief when he noticed that it was time for him to head out. “Right now.”

She perked up at that, leaning farther over the bar and pressing her breasts together with her arms. “Great, I can wait for you—”

“I have plans, actually,” he said. “I’m sorry that you’re in such a bad mood, but I need to—”

“Seriously?” she asked. “I vent to you about my problems and you hang onto every word I say and you have other plans? All men are such assholes.”

Yeah, he wasn’t even going to touch that.

“I guess we are,” he shrugged. “But I have to go, sorry.”

His replacement came walking behind the bar and he quickly informed her that the woman needed to be cut off. After getting his things and a bottle of jack he quickly left the bar, ignoring the angry and desperate looks of the woman who glared after him.

He had taken to driving Laura’s Camaro, always having liked it better than his own car. He slipped inside, twisting the key in the ignition, and then headed toward the Stilinski house. The house was about 15 minutes from the bar and he made it right at seven o’clock.

After just two knocks on the door, the door opened and instead of the Sheriff standing there, it was the taller kid from the woods. They just stared at each other for a few seconds before the kid looked behind him quickly and then back to Derek.

“Okay, listen,” he said. “I’m really sorry I was trespassing the other day, please don’t tell my dad. He said that you’re a nice guy and can you just honor the bro code and not say anything?”

“Of course,” Derek shrugged.

The kid’s shoulders sagged in relief and they continued to look at each other until the kid moved out of the way, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. Derek stepped inside, looking around. It was warm and cozy, but definitely hadn’t been taken care of in years. The Sheriff had mentioned his wife passing away and Derek assumed that she had probably been the heart of the home.

“Derek,” the Sheriff greeted, walking down the hallway toward them. “I see you’ve met my son, Stiles. I don’t know if you two remember each other from when you lived in Beacon Hills before.”

“Sorry, I don’t remember you,” Derek said, turning to Stiles who just shrugged.

“It’s cool man, I was like nine when you left.”

“So, you’re 15 now?”

“Yeah, I’m a sophomore.”

“He’s also on the lacrosse team.”

“More like lacrosse bench, but I appreciate the proud tone in your voice, Dad.”

Having trouble with lacrosse and having a dad who wanted him to succeed in it? Perfect.

“I can help you with lacrosse if you want,” Derek offered. “It’s been a while since I’ve played, but I was pretty good.”

“‘Pretty good’?” John repeated. “I used to go to your games; I thought for sure you were going to go pro.”

“I got a few offers, but I’m happy that I went with medicine instead.”

“Medicine,” Stiles said, gesturing to Derek. “See, Dad? Brains over brawn, that’s the way to do it.”

Stiles scrutinized Derek for a few moments, eyes lingering on his chest and arms. “Well, career wise, brains over brawn.”

The Sheriff sighed, shaking his head at his son. “And that’s great. But being good at a sport will look good on an application.”

“So will straight A’s and AP classes.”

Clearly this was a touchy subject between them. Stiles definitely wasn’t the brawny type, long and lanky and still growing into his body. He was only 15 so there was still time for him to come into himself, but even when that happened Derek couldn’t see him with a more defined body.

Which was good because Derek preferred him this way.

His left hand twitched.

He chose to ignore that.

“So,” Derek said, getting the attention of the two Stilinskis. “This is for you, Sheriff.”

Derek handed the bottle of whiskey to the Sheriff and he took it, smiling appreciatively and giving his thanks. The Sheriff left to put it in his liquor cabinet, leaving him alone with Stiles.

“I guess I’ll show you to the kitchen,” Stiles said, starting to walk down the hall. “We’re having roast beef and potatoes, hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine,” Derek said. “I can’t remember the last time I ate anything other than a casserole.”

Stiles winced at that. “I’m sorry, man. About your sister and your family and everything.”

“Thanks,” Derek said. “It’ll take time, but I’ll live—that’s all I can do.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded. “My mom died three years ago and I miss her every day, but I know she’d want me to keep moving forward.”

“Exactly,” Derek said. “So, what are you studying in school?”

“The usual stuff,” Stiles shrugged. “Algebra, English, Chemistry, World History, Spanish.”

“No electives?”

“Study hall.”

“Any subject you’re interested in for college?”

“I like Chemistry, but my teacher’s a douchebag.”

“Harris?”

“You had him?”

“Sometimes I sat through an entire class thinking what the best way to kill him was.”

It was true. Harris had been nice to him, but had treated everyone else like shit. He’d thought of elaborate plans to use whatever chemicals they were dealing with in class to kill him. It’d made the period pass by a lot quicker.

Stiles laughed. “Same. He seems to pick on me the most and of course my dad doesn’t believe that he’s singled me out for torture.”

“Well, you’ve only got one more semester with him,” Derek said. “Try to just survive it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The Sheriff came back then, ushering them both toward the food to get their plates. Once they had all sat down everyone started to eat and John started again with his insistence of Stiles trying harder at lacrosse.

“You love lacrosse,” John said. “And you’re good at it. It’s just nerves.”

“No, I literally trip over my own two feet whenever I try to run,” Stiles said. “I’m just not made for sports.”

“Nonsense, of course you are.”

Stiles gave a little agitated sigh, stabbing a piece of roast beef with a little too much vigor. “I like watching lacrosse, but playing it—”

“Stiles, if you just practiced more than—”

“Sports aren’t for everyone,” Derek cut in. “I wasn’t really a big fan of playing, but I knew I would disappoint my dad if I didn’t. Personal preference, I guess.”

He looked up at Stiles who mouthed a “thank you” before giving him a goofy smile. Derek grinned back before looking down at his plate.

“I know,” the Sheriff said. “Playing a team sport in high school is good for you though.”

Apparently John’s opinion on the matter just wasn’t going to change. Derek knew that if he wanted the Sheriff’s full trust then he should probably side with him, but he couldn’t help but side with Stiles. He wanted to side with the younger Stilinski since it was clear he was trying to make his dad proud but still keep true to himself. It was admirable no matter how stupid it seemed.

“So, when do you start med school, Derek?” Stiles asked.

“September,” he said.

“How many years does that take?”

“Four years of med school,” Derek said. “And then five years of residency for general surgery.”

“You’re going to be a surgeon?” Stiles asked, sounding impressed.

“Yeah, that surprising?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s just—It’s a lot of dedication, I guess.”

“That and time.”

Stiles nodded, continuing to eat and look at Derek from the corner of his eye when he thought he wasn’t looking. The Sheriff clamped a hand down on Stiles’ shoulder, beaming at him.

“You’re gonna learn dedication as well when you join the police academy,” he said. “I’m already proud of you and you haven’t even finished high school yet.”

Derek smiled at the Sheriff before looking at Stiles who wore his own tight smile. A kid who was interested in Chemistry and chose brains over brawn definitely didn’t want to become a police officer. It was just another thing that Stiles was doing to make his dad proud. He understood, having gone through that mindset in his life once. Of course he had killed his father, so he never really had to abide by him any longer.

After dinner the Sheriff insisted that Derek join him in the living room for a drink while Stiles cleaned up the kitchen. Derek offered to help, but John just shook his head, said it was part of Stiles being grounded since he had snuck out over a week ago.

They headed to the living room, the Sheriff opening the bottle of whiskey and pouring himself and Derek a small glass.

“I know you have to drive home soon, so I’m not going to give you anymore,” John said. “I probably shouldn’t even be giving you this since I’m the Sheriff, but it’s not like you’re going to tell on me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Derek said, taking the glass of amber liquid from him. “So, how’s the town been since I’ve been gone?”

“Good,” John nodded. “Nothing out of the ordinary, a few car wrecks, a few robberies, a murder here and there. Of course all of that has spanned out over the six years you’ve been gone.”

“Beacon Hills still a sleepy town?”

“As always,” the Sheriff said. “It’s good to have a Hale back though. I knew your parents, they were good people. Your uncle too was a good man—it’s terrible what happened to him.”

“Not as bad as death though,” Derek said, taking a small sip from his glass. “I visited him about a week ago, the night… the night Laura died.”

“Terrible,” John said, shaking his head. “Your family was the pride and joy of Beacon Hills and Kate Argent just destroyed everything. And now the Argents have moved back to town.”

Derek looked up at that, his interest piquing. “Really? Gerard and his family?”

“No, his son, Kate’s brother,” he said. “Chris and his wife along with their daughter, in the same grade as Stiles.”

“Why would they want to move back here?” Derek said. “Their family is full of private investigators, right? What’s there to investigate in Beacon Hills?”

“No idea,” the Sheriff shrugged. “As much as I want to I can’t just tell them to move away though. Maybe they’ll find a reason to stay.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

He finished his drink and thanked the Sheriff for dinner. John was walking him toward the door when he looked upstairs, hearing Stiles walking around up there.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to Stiles,” Derek said. “Maybe try to change his mind about lacrosse.”

The Sheriff broke into a grin at that, nodding and gesturing toward the stairs. “I was hoping you’d say that. He has so much potential and I don’t want him to waste it.”

“Of course,” Derek said, heading up the stairs.

“First door to the left,” the Sheriff called after him.

He nodded, reaching the second floor and seeing the first door on the left closed with the light shining under it. Derek knocked, backing away slightly from the door as he waited.

“Dad, I’m working on my homework,” Stiles said from the other side, the door opening. He looked at Derek, his mouth dropping open a bit (even though Derek noticed it had a way of staying open). “Derek. Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Stiles nodded, stepping aside.

Derek walked in the room, noticing the blue walls and the messy bed and the pictures and posters hung up. He sat down on the desk chair while Stiles stood at the door, probably contemplating whether to leave it open or not before closing it.

Stiles had already changed into a t-shit and a pair of sweatpants and despite having a buzz cut, Derek could still tell that he’d just gotten out of the shower. There wasn’t any homework in sight though and Derek wondered what he had actually doing before he noticed the closed laptop with the headphones attached to it.

Right. Fifteen year-old boy. Made sense.

“So, uh, what’s up?” Stiles asked, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

“I told your dad I’d try to change your mind about lacrosse.”

Stiles let out a groan, tilting his head back in frustration and giving Derek a great view of the column of his neck, moles scattered across the pale skin.

“I’m not going to though,” Derek said. “But I do think that you should stick with it. It’ll look good on an application and it’ll make him happy.”

“I know,” Stiles said. “I’m gonna stay on the team and I’ll guess I’ll try to have a more positive attitude.”

“Good,” Derek nodded. “You should tell him about not wanting to join the force though. Lacrosse isn’t going to shape your future, but joining that academy just to make him happy will.”

“It’s gonna crush him,” Stiles said. “He’s so excited about me joining and becoming the next Sheriff Stilinski and then getting a beautiful wife and having a son and he’ll be the next Sheriff Stilinski.”

“You don’t want that at all, do you?”

“Dude, I haven’t even told him that I’m gay yet.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at that and Stiles just scratched the back of his neck, shrugging. “He’s not homophobic or anything, I just feel like he’d be disappointed.”

“Tell him,” Derek said, standing. “You might be surprised.”

He headed toward the bedroom door, turning around to say goodbye to Stiles when the boy spoke up again.

“Are you coming to dinner next Wednesday too?” he asked.

“Depends,” Derek said.

“Well you should,” Stiles said. “Scott, my best friend, he’s kind of obsessed with this new girl and we haven’t been hanging out as much. And I don’t really have—”

_Any other friends._

“Uh, any chance to hang out because I’m grounded, so…” Stiles trailed off. “It’s stupid. I’m just this 15 year-old idiot and you’re this 20-something—”

“Twenty-two,” Derek said.

“Twenty-two year-old guy who has enough stuff to deal with and—”

“Is also pretty lonely.”

Stiles looked up at that, his wide brown eyes blinking at him. He nodded though. “Yeah. Me too.”

“I’ll be here on Wednesday,” Derek assured. “I’ll see you around, Stiles.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Derek left Stiles’ room and after saying goodbye to the Sheriff, he got into his car. He buckled his seatbelt and just sat there for a few moments, tightening his left hand in a fist to try and stop it from shaking. Usually his right hand was the one that twitched, but now his left hand was. It wasn’t even a Sunday, but he gave a resigned sigh, heading toward the preserve.

He shouldn’t have had to do it so soon after Laura, but apparently his hand didn’t care about that. It was practically vibrating as he drove and he took it off the wheel, placing it in his lap.

When he got to the preserve he parked and got out of the car, noticing one other car already parked. Good, there wouldn’t be an audience. His pocket knife, one that Laura had bought him to replace the one he had “lost”, was held tightly in his hand as he walked through the preserve. He was a decent tracker and the person who owned the car had left an obvious trail.

An obvious and very short trail.

Leaning against a tree trunk with a bottle in her hand was the woman from the bar. She looked even worse than before and looked up at him through hazy eyes.

“You,” she slurred, lifting up an arm to point at him. “Bartenzer.”

“That’s me,” Derek said, his mouth twitching up into a grin.

“Here for our zate?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

He walked up to her, taking the bottle from her hand and throwing it to his left, hearing it shatter as it hit a tree. The woman made a sad noise, but he pulled her up, holding her close to him. She smiled at him, wide and sloppy, moving in for a kiss.

And then she was stopping, his knife having stabbed her in the stomach, warm blood gushing onto his hand. He continued to smile at her as she tried to gasp, gargling blood and life drifting away from her.

Derek carried her away, making his way to a nearby lake. The police assumed that Kate had been the one to mark up her victims to look like mountain lion attacks and he couldn’t chance it by going back to his old ways. Laura’s body had been perfect, completely untraceable to a human. There was no way he was going to honor this woman in the same way he had his sister though.

He pushed the woman’s body into the lake, placing a large rock onto her stomach. She floated for a bit before sinking down into the water.

After washing off his knife and hands in the water, he looked down at his blood drenched shirt. There was a change of clothes in his car so he wasn’t that concerned since no one was around. The back of his throat was fine and his right hand was steady, but his left hand was still shaky.

And he was hard, his erection pressing insistently against the zipper of his jeans.

He groaned, moving toward a tree and placing a hand on it. After pulling his pants and underwear down, he started to stroke himself, thinking of nothing in particular, just trying to get off.

It didn’t work though. Usually it just took a few strokes, but he just couldn’t do it. It wasn’t a Sunday. That had to be it.

But then a flash of pale skin littered with dark moles and long, skinny fingers and that stupid pink mouth that he just wanted to _wreck_. Fuck, he wanted to wreck everything that boy had. Wreck that virginal body—and there was no way in hell Stiles wasn’t untouched—and that mind and just split him in two. He wanted to bruise him, to claim him, to erase everything in his mind and fill it with nothing but Derek.

He came hard then, spilling onto his hand, his fingers filled with splinters from digging into the bark of the tree. Thoughts of Stiles filled his head and his left hand was still. He let out a heavy sigh, falling to the forest floor.

Killing someone hadn’t been the problem, it’d that been that boy. That boy with his amber eyes and pink mouth and face that was still a bit rounded. It was a new feeling, the feeling of wanting something like that. He’d been with men before, but never boys.

Something about it made sense though, clicked into place and started to excite him in the most bizarre way. He had been wrecking innocent things for so long, killing them before he had the chance to really mold and shape them, make them into something of his own.

But with Stiles he could do that. He could make the boy exactly what he wanted.

And then of course when he was done, done shaping him into the perfect target—he’d kill him.

Because of course that’s what he always had to do.


	3. Chapter 3

One week was too long; he realized that on Friday, just two days after meeting Stiles. He had expected for it to last longer, for him to be able to hold off on it. Apparently he had underestimated it. His right hand was still and would probably stay that way for a few months, but he woke up every morning feeling like shit, his left hand shaking and his head spinning.

Countless times he had stumbled into the bathroom only to throw up in the toilet, pressing his forehead against the cool porcelain afterward and trying to clear his head. It made sense but at the same time it didn’t. He had already made his claim on Stiles, whether the boy knew it or not, he belonged to Derek. Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen him in days or maybe it was because he just hadn’t taken what was his yet.

Regardless, Wednesday couldn’t come fast enough.

It was Sunday when he finally decided to try and remedy it. He knew what he had to do, but he also knew that he would have to work Stiles over first, gain his trust, begin to mold him into what Derek wanted him to be. His left hand wouldn’t stop shaking anytime soon, but just like killing birds and does, he could put it off for a little while.

Growing up his parents had always told him to stay away from a certain corner of Beacon Hills. It was right on the edge of town, spilling into another county, but still mostly in Beacon Hills. When he was younger he just assumed it was a bad place because of crimes, but when he got older he realized that it was something like a red light district.

It felt comical that a place like Beacon Hills would have a small corner like that, but all small towns had their faults and secrets. He had never been there before, but there was a first time for everything.

In just about five minutes of driving down the street he found what he was looking for. A young boy who was pale and skinny and vaguely resembled Stiles (if he squinted… a lot) was standing on the side of a dark street. He took the boy to a seedy motel, fucked him into the mattress, and then paid him before leaving.

His left hand was completely still until Wednesday.

**OoOoOoO**

“Hey,” Stiles said, opening the front door before ushering Derek inside.

It was pouring outside and it was supposed to storm later that night. The Sheriff had called him and told him that he didn’t have to come, but he had promised to be there. There was no way he was going to pass on seeing his Stiles.

“How are you?” Derek asked, running a hand through his damp hair.

“I’m okay,” Stiles shrugged. “I told my dad.”

“About lacrosse, police academy, or your sexuality?”

“The third one,” Stiles said. “He was a little surprised and in denial at first, but he’s been pretty cool about it. We hugged it out—he said he loves me no matter what, all of that cheesy stuff.”

“That’s great,” Derek said, smiling and patting Stiles on the back. “You had nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, you were right,” Stiles said, nodding.

“I usually am.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at that. “Someone’s a little full of himself.”

“I’m self-confident.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Someone had a bit of a mouth on him. That was fine. Derek could fix that.

“I’ve got a ton of homework and dinner isn’t going to be ready for like 30 minutes,” Stiles said. “My dad isn’t home yet, but you can hang out in the living room if you want to.”

And that definitely wasn’t what he wanted.

“I was hoping to hang out with you actually,” Derek said. “I like talking to you.”

“Seriously?” Stiles asked, his cheeks tinting a light pink. “That’s—I think this is the first time anyone’s said that they like talking to me.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Derek said, letting a little sarcasm seep into his voice. “But if you’re too busy with homework—”

“No,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “No, I’m just trying to get a head-start on it. I’m grounded so I’m bored and homework is basically my only source of entertainment. And World of Warcraft.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at that.

“Oh, it’s uh, this online game where you—forget it, it’s lame.”

“I know what WoW is, Stiles.”

Stiles’ mouth fell open at that but then it quickly turned up into a smile. “Seriously? Awesome.”

He led Derek up to his room and Derek sat back down at Stiles’ desk while Stiles sat down on his bed. It felt good to be back in the room after a week, familiar despite having only seen it once. The room was the only thing in the house that truly belonged to Stiles and since it belonged to Stiles, it might as well have belonged to him as well.

Stiles was sitting awkwardly on the bed, looking around the room before resting his eyes on Derek before quickly looking away again. It was still raining outside, the wind starting to pick up and almost making a whistling noise.

“How’s your friend Scott and that girl he’s so obsessed with?” Derek asked.

“You remember that?” Stiles asked.

“I’ve got a good memory,” Derek shrugged.

“Oh, well he’s got a double date coming up, so I guess he’s succeeding.”

“You guess?”

“Yeah, since him and Allison are kind of dating he hangs out a lot with her and her friends and a lunch table only has so many seats.”

Derek didn’t know whether to be angry or pleased by this development. He was angry because someone who Stiles trusted and had given friendship was turning his back on him. And then he was pleased because now Stiles didn’t really have anyone. The lonelier Stiles got, the more he’d want to give his time to Derek.

“Everything changes in high school,” Derek said. “He’ll probably come back to you.”

“Maybe,” Stiles said. “We do get time to hang out when it’s just the two of us, but then all he ever wants to talk about is Allison.”

“Is she his first girlfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“Then he’ll definitely calm down, just give him some time.”

Stiles nodded, smiling slightly. “You’re probably right. So, uh, how are things with you?”

“They’re fine,” Derek said, standing up and beginning to walk around the room, inspecting it. “It’s been boring, but I’ve kept myself occupied.”

“You’ve probably got a girlfriend.”

“No,” Derek said, shaking his head. “No girlfriend or boyfriend.”

He looked over to Stiles at that who looked pleasantly surprised by that bit of new information. This look was soon replaced with one of discouragement and Derek knew that even though his gender wasn’t an issue, Stiles probably still had doubts about Derek ever wanting him.

It was innocent and modest and it just made Derek want to turn that all around more.

He’d have to refrain though. The Sheriff would probably be back soon and gaining his trust wasn’t going to be easy if he got caught with his 15 year-old son.

Not that Derek had any intentions of waiting though.

Stiles’ phone rang and the boy took it out of his pocket, giving Derek an apologetic look before answering.

“Hey, Dad, Derek’s already… Oh, okay,” he said. “Yeah, no. That’s fine. The lasagna’s out of the oven already, so it’s almost ready to eat. I can—Yeah, the storm’s pretty bad. Fine, I’ll ask him. Okay. Love you too. Bye.”

“He can’t make it?” Derek asked after Stiles hung up.

“No,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “Some girl’s gone missing and they might have found something in the woods. Besides there’s the storm and he’s going to be home really late. I get it if you want to go home and beat the storm, he wants you to stay because it’ll be good to talk to you or whatever but you probably came over here just to talk to my dad and I don’t want to—”

“I came over here for you.”

“What?”

“Stiles, your dad’s a good man, but he’s not exactly someone I’d want to spend a lot of time with,” Derek said. “You, on the other hand, are someone I’d like to spend a lot of time with.”

Derek walked toward him, taking a seat next to him on the bed. Stiles swallowed, looking around the room before finally settling his eyes on Derek.

“And how would we spend this time together?” Stiles asked.

“Maybe eating lasagna because I’m kind of starving.”

Stiles’ shoulders deflated, but he still nodded and smiled, standing up and heading toward the door. “Lasagna, good idea.”

Derek followed Stiles downstairs into the kitchen and leaned against the counter as he watched Stiles cut the lasagna into huge pieces. His mother had passed away a few years ago and it must have been difficult since Stiles wasn’t wired like Derek was. Derek knew that it was normal to feel sadness when a family member died, but he wasn’t normal.

Stiles wasn’t normal either, but he had probably cried, probably gotten angry and depressed. He’d had to learn how to take care of himself and the house since the Sheriff rarely seemed to be home. It was admirable in a sense, a young boy learning to become his own and not rely on others. Because Stiles knew how to live by himself, but he wasn’t conscious of it yet, still yearning for the approval of his father and his best friend.

And that was good. Because Derek would make it so that he would never become conscious of his capability and instead of relying on his father and his best friend, he would just rely on Derek.

It’d take some time, but he could do it.

“Stouffers?” Derek asked, gesturing toward the plate of lasagna Stiles had handed him.

“Mom’s recipe,” Stiles said. “It’s way better than the frozen stuff.”

“You made it?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty easy.”

Derek didn’t know much about cooking but from his experience of living with Laura for six years, he knew that lasagna wasn’t easy. He could remember trying to make their own mother’s recipe numerous times and each time resulted in her cursing and ordering a pizza.

“You like cooking?” Derek asked, taking a seat across from Stiles at the table.

“It’s okay,” he shrugged.

“Just okay?”

Stiles looked up at him from his plate and scrutinized him for a few moments. He placed his fork back down on the table and leaned back against his seat, continuing to stare at Derek.

“What?”

“Why do you want to know so much about me?”

The boy was also smart. Derek liked that, but he could still fix it.

“Because I think you’re interesting,” Derek said. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Stiles said. “It’s just that no one’s found me interesting before and I can’t see why.”

“I didn’t know I needed a reason to be interested in someone.”

“Well you don’t _need_ a reason, but I’d like to know since I’m the person you find so interesting.”

He’d definitely have to fix that. That natural curiosity was going to ruin Derek if he kept Stiles (and he had every intention of keeping him for as long as possible).

But just this once he could indulge Stiles.

Just as Stiles had leaned back against his chair, Derek leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and looking at Stiles who was still eyeing him critically.

“Because I haven’t gotten close to anyone in over six years,” he said. “I haven’t talked to anyone except for my sister in over six years. And I mean really _talk_ , about things that matter, not just what I did at work or how many years of med school I’m going to have to attend.”

“And you think you can talk to me like that?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m 15.”

“I know.”

“Why me?”

Derek stood up, walking around the table before stopping next to Stiles’ chair. “Because you’re lonely, just like me.”

He didn’t give Stiles a chance to say anything else, cutting off his speech by leaning down and pressing their mouths together. Stiles tensed against him and when he pulled back the boy’s mouth fell open, eyes wide in shock.

“Why did…?” Stiles just stopped there, still staring up at Derek.

“Thanks for dinner,” Derek said. “I’ll see you soon.”

**OoOoOoO**

Three days passed before his left hand started to shake again.

He was thinking about taking another trip to the edge of Beacon Hills, maybe finding the same boy as last time and trying to release all of his pent-up arousal. There hadn’t been a word from Stiles or the Sheriff and he was beginning to think that Stiles might have told his father what had happened.

But then he rethought that and almost laughed at how ludicrous the thought was. Stiles was interested in him, he wouldn’t tell his dad. He was probably just nervous, unsure of what Derek wanted and whether he was allowed to pursue him or not.

Or maybe he was just waiting for the weekend.

It was Saturday night and Derek was just about to give into going to find that same prostitute for the night when there were frantic knocks against his apartment door. He dropped his keys down on his bed before walking to the door, looking through the peephole, the corner of his mouth twitched up into a grin and he yanked his shirt over his head before opening the door.

“Hey,” he said, grinning lazily at Stiles who looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin.

“Can I come in?” Stiles asked, eyes glued to Derek’s chest rather than his face.

“Of course,” Derek said, stepping aside and motioning for Stiles to come in.

Stiles walked in, looking around the small entry hall as Derek closed and locked the door behind him.

“Does your dad know where you are?”

“He thinks I’m with Scott.”

Derek nodded, leaning back against the door and watching Stiles look like he was having an internal war. It was almost amusing, watching the boy panic and just stand there in his confusion.

“Why are you here, Stiles?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“About?”

“About Wednesday,” he said. “You kissed me and said that you were interested in me and it doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense to me and I need an explanation and maybe something in writing, just so I know I wasn’t—”

He already knew that shutting Stiles up by kissing him was going to be something he enjoyed very much. This time he backed Stiles up against the opposite wall, the picture frame of some landscape Laura liked swinging back and forth on the nail it was hung on. He forced his way into Stiles’ mouth, exploring it with his tongue and moving their bodies as close as possible. Stiles was clinging to his back and making little noises that Derek couldn’t even begin to decipher.

Stiles looked young but he felt even younger. Everything about him practically screamed inexperience and he was still lanky and awkward and unsure. Derek curled his hand around the back of Stiles’ neck, trying to bring him impossibly closer, when Stiles moved his face away.

“Your hand’s shaking,” Stiles panted out, hands still clutching Derek’s back.

“Won’t be for long,” Derek said, bringing their mouths together before pulling Stiles down the hallway with him.

The bedroom seemed too far away, so they collapsed onto the couch in the living room, Derek managing to push Stiles’ plaid button-down off of his shoulders before his back hit the cushions. He straddled Stiles’ thighs and just looked down at him, down at his claim.

And God, he had made the right decision in choosing Stiles. He was so young, so inexperienced. His brown eyes were wide and nervous and it felt so familiar, like Stiles was that first doe in the woods all of those years ago, just waiting for Derek to sink his knife into it.

He would, one day. But now there were more pressing matters at hand.

Derek moved down, slipping his hands under Stiles’ shirt and pressing their mouths together again. Stiles reached up, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck. It was never too early for Derek to start teaching Stiles. Kissing was definitely something his boy was enthusiastic in trying, but not very precise in his technique.

That didn’t stop him from trying, mimicking Derek’s movements when he could and pressing into him more. Pressing into him so much more that he felt Stiles’ erection against him soon enough.

He pulled back, looking down at Stiles who must have realized what had happened.

“You’ve never been with anyone before,” Derek said.

“That was a statement,” Stiles breathed, leaning back against the cushions.

“Not even a stupid kiss,” Derek continued, watching as Stiles started to blush. “No Spin the Bottle or Seven Minutes in Heaven? No dare on the playground in elementary school? Nothing?”

Stiles didn’t say anything, his face and neck now a light pink. He avoided looking at Derek, probably too embarrassed to admit that what Derek was saying was exactly true. Derek wouldn’t have that though, he didn’t want him to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable. He pressed kisses against Stiles’ neck, hands running up and down under his t-shirt. Stiles relaxed under his touch eventually and he let out a sigh of what Derek assumed to be relief.

“I do feel like I should have asked you before taking your first kiss though,” Derek teased, pressing his lips against Stiles’ temple.

“Shut up, asshole.”

And that wasn’t okay.

His grip on Stiles’ sides tightened and Stiles winced, turning his head to look at Derek. The boy’s mouth fell open and Derek knew that he probably looked angry.

And he should look angry because he was angry.

This boy was his and he deserved some respect. Of course the boy hadn’t been taught yet, but he should know better than to address Derek in that way.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Derek said, trying to keep his voice even.

“I won’t,” Stiles said. “I promise, I won’t say anything like that again, I’m sorry.”

“Good boy.”

He kissed Stiles again and despite being hesitant at first, he melted into it again. Derek moved back though, looking at Stiles again to make sure he was okay.

“Who are you?” Stiles asked finally.

“I’m Derek Hale.”

“I know,” Stiles said and Derek could hear a bit of amusement in his tone, and that was good, much better than sarcasm. “You’re just so different from what I imagined. When we first met you were so…”

“Nice?” Derek asked. “Courteous? Respectful?”

“Well, yeah,” Stiles shrugged. “And now you’re… I don’t know who you are.”

“You can get to know me if you like.”

It wasn’t an offer; it was more like an order.

“I would like that,” Stiles nodded, bringing a hand up to cup Derek’s cheek. “I really, really would.”

**OoOoOoO**

They grew into an easy routine quickly.

Derek continued to go to Wednesday night dinners, charming and gaining the trust of the Sheriff and giving glances to Stiles who would just smile before quickly looking away. After dinner the Sheriff would always retire to the living room and Derek would help Stiles with the dishes. They’d talk about all of the normal and mundane things before Stiles eventually worked up the nerve to kiss him. Derek would press him against the counter, fisting his hands into Stiles’ shirt and dampen it with soapy water from his hands. Stiles never complained though, always trying to get more and always frowning in disappointment when Derek broke the kiss.

After dinner Derek would have a drink with the Sheriff while Stiles went up to his room to work on homework. The Sheriff would then go into a long spiel about how he was so fortunate that he had taken an interest in Stiles. The cover was that Derek was helping Stiles with lacrosse on the weekends and after school, but that wasn’t the case at all. Stiles would come over to Derek’s apartment and they would do everything that didn’t involve lacrosse. Kissing, watching movies, talking, sometimes Derek would leave for a shift at the bar and leave Stiles at his apartment to work on homework.

Of course after the drink with the Sheriff he would go up to Stiles’ room. As soon as the door opened, Stiles would yank at his shirt and bring him into a kiss before they ended up falling on the bed. It was only ever kissing on Wednesdays despite Stiles’ constant pleas for Derek to take things further. But the Sheriff was downstairs and Stiles was loud and he didn’t want to muffle those noises for the world.

Sundays of course managed to be the best day of the week.

It was the day where he had an afternoon shift at the bar and would leave Stiles at his apartment to work on his homework. His shift was short, just four hours, and he was back at around five. Whenever he got back he would see Stiles in the living room, chewing on the end of his pen and glaring down at a textbook. The first Sunday he had taken Stiles’ hand before leading him back to his bedroom for the first time. He had pressed Stiles against the bed and rutted against the boy until he came in his pants.

Sundays were special days again and maybe that explained why he was so thrilled when he finally finished his Sunday shift at the bar.

He headed back to his apartment, opening the door and hanging his jacket on the hook by the door, placing his keys on the small table next to it. Derek walked through the narrow hallway and into the living room where Stiles was sitting on the floor, scribbling down in his notebook.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down behind Stiles and wrapping his arms around his stomach.

“Hey,” Stiles said, continuing to write. “How was work?”

“Boring, repetitive, mundane,” Derek listed off, slipping his hands under Stiles’ shirt and pressing his mouth to the back of his neck. “What are you working on?”

Goosebumps prickled up against Stiles’ skin and Derek smirked, scratching his fingernails against Stiles’ stomach.

“Chemistry,” Stiles said. “It’s easy.”

“I never really liked it,” Derek said. “Always preferred anatomy.”

Derek could practically hear the eye roll.

Which was fine. Outside of bed he loved Stiles’ sharp wit and sarcasm, it made for good conversation. And outside of bed was the only time it had ever appeared. Stiles had learned without even being told how he should act when Derek was touching him.

“Oh really?” Stiles asked. “Care to share?”

“Love to,” Derek said, pressing his hand against Stiles’ front. “You want muscles or bones or organs?”

“I was thinking the male reproductive system, actually.”

Derek chuckled at that, bringing his hand up to bring one of Stiles’ nipples between two of his fingers. He watched Stiles bite his bottom lip and he moved his hand to the other nipple. Teasing Stiles was probably one of his favorite things, but he wasn’t in the mood tonight. He pressed a kiss to the back of his neck before standing up, taking Stiles’ hands and bringing him to his feet.

“No anatomy lesson, Dr. Hale?” Stiles asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“I didn’t say that,” Derek said, leading him to the bedroom.

And as soon as they entered the room it seemed like Stiles turned into an entirely different person. All joking and sarcasm was gone from him and he was just standing there, waiting instruction.

“Get on the bed,” Derek said.

Stiles nodded before sitting on the bed, looking at Derek who was moving to his nightstand, opening the drawer and getting a bottle of lube out. He sat down behind Stiles on the bed, bringing him into his lap and pressing kisses up his neck.

“You know what we’re going to do today?” he asked, holding tight onto Stiles.

“No,” Stiles said.

“I’m going to open you,” Derek said. “I’m not going to fuck you, not yet. I’m just going to open you, see how much you can take, and make you take everything even if you think you can’t.”

He reached a hand around, cupping Stiles through his jeans and smiling to himself when he found the boy already half hard.

“You’re excited,” Derek said. “That’s good. We’ve talked about this. You haven’t touched yourself there before, have you?”

Stiles shook his head and Derek kissed his cheek. “Such a good boy.”

Derek kissed Stiles then, enjoying the way the boy sagged against him, hands twitching at his sides and probably wondering if he was allowed to touch. He had expected Stiles to take longer to break in, to make sure that he knew what all of the rules were, but he had picked up on them all so quickly. He was so good for Derek, Stiles was so quick to challenge Derek and he loved it, but when it was just them and Derek was touching him, he was so good and obedient.

“Take your clothes off, get on your stomach,” Derek said, breaking away.

“Question,” Stiles said.

“Just one.”

“If I tell you to stop, you will, right?”

Not a chance.

“Of course.”

He kissed Stiles again, just a soft and short lingering one and he saw Stiles’ shoulders sag in relief. Stiles stood up, stripping his clothes off before lying down on his stomach. The first time Derek had asked him to strip he’d been so embarrassed and Derek had had to do most of the work for him. But now he was just so good at it, taking instruction so well, being so unashamed by the fact that he was Derek’s.

Whether he knew that yet or not.

His hand cupped Stiles’ ass, thumb brushing against the pale skin. He loved this, a lot more than he was willing to admit. But being the only person having access to this, access to a place that Stiles himself hadn’t even touched, was just the best feeling to him. Stiles was his and there was no greater ownership than having him in a way that others would never have the chance to.

“You know eventually your body won’t even respond to you anymore,” Derek said, pulling Stiles’ cheeks apart and just looking at the tight pink hole, fighting the urge to just push into it. “Just to me. You won’t even be able to get off by yourself anymore, you’ll always need me.”

Stiles shuddered underneath him at that and Derek grinned, leaning down to kiss the top of his spine. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

He moved back down, keeping Stiles’ cheeks spread before ducking down and sliding his tongue over the hole. Stiles let out a small noise, moving up the bed slightly, but Derek just gripped him tighter, continuing to work his tongue against his hole. It was wet and sloppy but worth it just because of the noises escaping from Stiles. The noises were the one thing that they never had rules for, Derek loved hearing Stiles and couldn’t imagine him ever wanting the boy to stop.

Especially now. It was almost too tempting to just open Stiles with just his tongue. But his tongue wouldn’t fill Stiles like he wanted to, wouldn’t make him open up like he wanted to, wouldn’t let Derek know his boy’s limits like he wanted to.

He continued though, the process getting filthier as he started to fuck Stiles with his tongue and forced him to stay still. Stiles was shaking on the bed, hands twisted in the sheets and soft whimpers and muffled cries escaping from him. Derek wanted to know if he was actually crying, wanted to know if there were tears threatening to spill from those wide doe eyes.

Despite the cries though, Stiles let out a noise of protest once Derek parted from him and he couldn’t help but smile, stroking Stiles’ back with his free hand. He opened the lube with the other and poured some onto his fingers before thrusting two into Stiles.

He knew it was too much, knew that Stiles wasn’t ready to take two, but he was impatient. Stiles arched his back slightly, a strangled groan escaping from him as he pressed his forehead against the pillow.

“Derek,” he panted. “I can’t, that’s too—”

“Just take it, Stiles,” Derek said. “I know you can.”

There weren’t any more protests and Derek took that as a sign to start moving the fingers. Stiles was so tight around him and it didn’t seem like anything he did was making him looser. He practically clung to Derek’s fingers, fitting around him like a glove. Derek continued to work them inside of him though, leaning up to kiss the back of Stiles’ neck and watch him blink back tears.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Derek sighed. “So good. You’re always so good, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded, moving back onto Derek’s fingers finally and letting out a little moan. Derek kissed his neck again, continuing to pump the fingers in and out of him. The boy was starting to enjoy it though, working himself onto Derek’s fingers, panting and letting out little gasps.

Derek added a third finger too soon though and Stiles’ eyes squeezed tight, hands clutching the sheets. He chose to ignore it, pressing reassuring kisses to Stiles’ sweat damp skin and whispering encouragements, never slowing down the pace of his fingers. His fingers curled, seeking out Stiles’ prostate. He found it quickly enough and the boy let out a loud groan of Derek’s name, rutting into the mattress.

He did it again and again and again, pressing against that spot for long seconds at a time and just rubbing, watching Stiles unravel underneath him. When he added a fourth finger Stiles was gone, not even caring anymore and just panting against the pillow, a sheen of sweat on his skin along with a deep flush.

“That’s it,” Derek encouraged. “You’re so close, aren’t you? Come for me, Stiles, come on now.”

And he did, gasping and spilling onto the comforter. Derek didn’t even give him a second to recuperate before Derek turned him over, pressing his mouth insistently against his. Stiles wasn’t capable of returning it very well, panting into Derek’s mouth and holding on tightly to his shirt.

“Derek,” Stiles finally said, swallowing and trying to regain his breath. “Let me… I mean, you must be so—”

Derek shifted, letting his clothed erection press against Stiles’ bare cock.

“Fuck, Derek you’re so hard,” Stiles said. “I can help you, let me—”

“I know you can,” Derek said. “But after that the only way I want you to get me off is by letting me fuck you and I don’t think you’re up to that right now.”

Stiles made an agitated noise at that. “I want to make you come too.”

“I know you do,” Derek said, kissing him again. “And you will, just not today.”

He got off the bed then, giving Stiles a final look before heading into the attached bathroom.


	4. Chapter 4

“So,” Stiles said, turning around to face Derek. “It’s not that big of a deal and you don’t have to do anything about it, but on Sunday it’s—”

“Your birthday,” Derek finished for him.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, smiling. “It’s not a big deal. Usually my dad and I go out to dinner, but he’s been working on a case and he took on late hours that day. I think he forgot.”

“I’m sure he didn’t forget,” Derek assured. “He’s just trying to do his job.”

It was Friday night and Stiles was over as usual, sitting in his lap and commenting on the terrible horror movie they were watching. He couldn’t remember an evening that Stiles didn’t come over and stay as late as he could before leaving. Stiles hadn’t spent any time with anyone but Derek lately and Stiles seemed annoyed whenever he talked about Scott or his father. It was better this way, Stiles didn’t need anyone but him and he was just helping to separate him from the baggage.

“Anyway,” Stiles continued. “I was, uh, hoping that maybe I could spend the night on Sunday? Spring break is all of next week and I can just tell my dad that I’m with Scott or some of the guys from lacrosse.”

Derek took a moment to pretend to think. His answer was of course yes, but he liked to watch Stiles, watch his hopefulness and uncertainty. They’d been together for almost three months and every day he saw Stiles shape into what Derek wanted more and more.

“I’d love for you to spend the night,” he said, pressing his mouth against Stiles’.

He felt Stiles smile against his lips and wrap his arms around him tighter. Derek had also made sure to use the word “love” as often as possible. Stiles was already in love with him, but Derek wanted him to voice it. He wanted to hear how much Stiles relied on him and needed him. And there was nothing needier than love.

“Is your dad still going to believe the Scott excuse though?” Derek asked. “You rarely talk about him anymore.”

“As far as my dad knows we’re still best friends,” Stiles said. “He keeps trying to talk to me during school, but I don’t want to hear him going on and on about Allison. I just feel like we’ve outgrown our friendship.”

Scott probably just wanted his friend back, but Derek wasn’t going to tell Stiles that.

“It happens,” Derek shrugged. “You’ll make new friends.”

“I don’t want to though,” Stiles said, hand coming up to curl into Derek’s shirt. “I just need you.”

Derek smiled at that, holding Stiles tighter and pressing their foreheads together. “I only need you too.”

Stiles leaned forward, kissing him and Derek let him push him down on the couch. They kissed for a while, the movie long forgotten along with Stiles’ curfew. It was just lazy, open-mouthed kisses, hands running under shirts and hips rutting against each other. Derek didn’t even know how long it went for but when he finally turned off the TV, Stiles was kissing his neck and digging his fingernails into his side.

“What do you want?” Derek asked, dropping the remote to the coffee table and turning to look at Stiles.

The boy moved away from his neck, face flushed in what was probably embarrassment. Derek grinned at that, cupping the back of his head and forcing him to look at him. “Stiles, tell me.”

“I want…” he started, averting his gaze. “I want you to fuck me.”

Derek’s grip on him tightened and Stiles looked up at him at that, looking embarrassed but hopeful and so lustful that Derek actually thought about giving him what he wanted.

“Not yet, Stiles.”

“What?” Stiles asked. “Why not? We’ve done everything else and I know you want to. Please, Derek.”

“We will soon, but—” Derek started.

“Seriously?” Stiles said. “I’ve been so good, Derek. Have I let you down? Did I do something wrong? Just tell me what I—”

“No, baby,” Derek interjected, cupping Stiles’ face with his hands. “I just want to wait until your birthday, make it even more special.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open at that and he looked away from Derek, seeming embarrassed more than anything.

“Oh, that’s… I’m sorry for pushing it,” Stiles said.

Derek chuckled, bringing their foreheads together and kissing him. Stiles reluctantly kissed back, probably unaware if he was allowed to. It was fine though, Derek loved that Stiles wanted to put his needs above his own and do what he wanted. He was perfect for Derek. Well, he was now that Derek had made him this way.

Stiles’ phone started to ring and they moved away from each other. The boy gave an apologetic look before reaching into his pocket and then wincing at the caller ID.

“Dad, I’m sorry I’m late for curfew,” Stiles said as soon as he answered the phone.

Derek had turned the volume up on Stiles’ phone when he had last left it unattended and he could hear everything the Sheriff was saying.

“I just called Melissa and she said that Scott is with Allison,” the Sheriff said and Derek could hear his frustration. “If you’re with a boy, I want to meet him, and—”

Leaning forward, Derek plucked the phone from Stiles’ hand and placed it to his hear.

“I’m sorry, sir, Stiles is with me,” he said, running a hand up and down Stiles’ side to try and get rid of the panicked look on his boy’s face. “We were watching a movie and fell asleep.”

“Oh, Derek,” the Sheriff said, his voice full of relief. “I’m glad. Could you send him home though? It’s way past his curfew and I don’t want him driving this late.”

“Of course, sir,” Derek said, giving his goodbyes and then hanging up.

He handed the phone back to Stiles who was getting off the couch and looking around the room to make sure he had everything before he left. Derek’s eyes went to his boy’s crotch, mouth twitching up to see that he was still hard.

“Stiles.”

The boy looked over at him, perking an eyebrow before looking at Derek gesturing for him to come to him. He walked awkwardly over before stopping in front of Derek who then pulled him into his lap.

“Derek, I have to go—mm,” Stiles started before moaning into Derek kissing him firmly.

Stiles gripped onto Derek’s shoulders, smiling against his mouth before moving away. “I’d love to stay, but I really have to go.”

“I know,” Derek said, kissing down Stiles’ neck before cupping him through his jeans. Stiles sucked in a breath at that, squirming on Derek’s lap. “I just want to give you something to think about when you get home.”

He brought his mouth back up to Stiles’, rubbing Stiles through his pants and holding him firmly in his lap. Once again Stiles pried away from his mouth, trying to get off of Derek’s lap only for Derek to grip his hips tighter, pressing his forehead against Stiles’ temple.

“You’re gonna go home and say hi to your dad before going up to your room,” Derek said. “And then you’re going to jerk yourself off thinking about me and no one else with your fingers up your ass.”

“Derek,” Stiles breathed, hands still clutching Derek’s shoulders and face still red.

“You understand?”

“Yeah, fuck yeah, of course.”

Derek smiled, nipping at Stiles’ earlobe. “Good boy.”

**OoOoOoO**

“Scott wants to hang out today,” Stiles said from the other line, his voice tense and agitated.

“So you’re not coming over?” Derek asked.

He was in the grocery store, doing the mundane task of picking up fruits and vegetables and bread and meat and all of the other stuff he needed. Usually Stiles went with him, sneaking in weird produce Derek had never heard of and spending a good portion of the time in the baking aisle, squinting at different products.

It was Saturday morning though and the day before Stiles’ birthday and Stiles had wanted to sleep in. Derek had allowed it, looked forward to seeing him later on in the day, but now he was making plans with Scott.

Good. That was very…good.

“Of course I’m coming over,” Stiles insisted. “I’m gonna turn Scott down and—”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t turn Scott down,” Derek said. “Maybe he wants to apologize; maybe he wants to be your friend again.”

“Yeah, right,” Stiles scoffed. “He probably just bored all of his new popular friends with details about Allison’s magical hair. He’s blown me off to be with her so many times, I should blow him off to be with you. It’s fair.”

“You shouldn’t sink to his level,” Derek said. “Give him a chance.”

Stiles would, he always did what Derek said. And when he would he wouldn’t be interested in hearing Scott out, he would realize how much he didn’t need Scott, he’d realize that Derek was the only one he’d ever need.

“Really?” Stiles asked. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Derek said. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. I have a few errands to run anyway.”

“All right, I’ll meet with him,” Stiles said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I lo—I’ll miss you.”

Derek grinned at that, hearing Stiles’ slip-up and practically latching onto it. “I’ll miss you too.”

After an exchange of goodbyes they hung up and Derek went back to looking at his grocery list when a throat cleared behind him. Derek turned around, seeing the Sheriff there with his own basket and a disgruntled look on his face.

“Sheriff,” Derek greeted, smiling his best smile. “It’s good to see you. How have—?”

“Cut the crap, Hale.”

Derek let his face fall, his grip on his basket tightened. The Sheriff looked like he was simultaneously challenging him and trying to find the words to challenge him with.

“Excuse me?” Derek asked.

“You were talking to Stiles, weren’t you?”

No use in denying the truth.

“Yes, is that a pr—?”

“You’re seeing him, aren’t you?”

“We’re friends.”

“Don’t play dumb with me; it doesn’t suit someone as smart as you.”

Well there goes his plan of gaining the Sheriff’s trust.

“Yes,” Derek said slowly. “We are involved with each other.”

“He’s 15.”

“I know.”

“You two have been lying and sneaking behind my back for months.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve never seen him this happy since his mom died.”

And maybe all hope of being on the Sheriff’s good side wasn’t lost.

The Sheriff sighed, running a hand through his hair before looking at Derek. Derek was used to be scrutinized by people, used to being stared at. It wasn’t anything new, but the way the Sheriff was staring at him almost made him feel uncomfortable.

“I know that I can’t stop him from seeing you,” the Sheriff said. “He finds his way around things and that will only result in more lying which I don’t want. I knew this was going to happen someday, I just never expected…Well, I never expected you.

“But you’re a good man, Derek. I’m trusting you with my son, my _only_ son. If you hurt him—”

“No one will find the body?” Derek supplied.

“Exactly,” the Sheriff nodded. “Take care of him.”

“Of course.”

The Sheriff then walked past him, heading toward another aisle. Derek felt a giant weight come off of his shoulders. This was actually good, not only did the Sheriff still trust him, he was trusting him with Stiles. Everything was falling into place. Soon he would have the Sheriff’s blind trust and he would be able to continue any Sunday he pleased without being deemed a suspect by the Sheriff.

**OoOoOoO**

“You’re early,” Derek noted when he opened the door to his apartment to let Stiles in.

“I didn’t say when I was going to be over.”

“It’s nine in the morning, Stiles, you’re early.”

“My dad knows about us.”

“Happy birthday.”

And before Stiles could go into a spiel of panic, Derek pulled him into the apartment and kissed him, closing the door and then pressing him against it. Stiles probably wanted to talk and Derek did too, but now it was the time for lazy morning kisses and for Derek to appreciate Stiles having come to his apartment in pajama pants and a thin t-shirt.

“Thanks,” Stiles said once they had parted. “But my dad knows.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Derek asked, leading Stiles into the kitchen.

“Tell me what?” Stiles asked. “Last night he said that he knew about us and that he was okay with it as long as we were careful.”

“He confronted me yesterday at the store,” Derek said. “I thought he was going to punch me.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t.”

“There were some vague threats.”

“Definitely not surprised about that.”

“Want some breakfast?”

“Love some.”

Stiles placed his hands on Derek’s shoulders and kissed him again. This definitely wasn’t breakfast, but Derek wasn’t going to complain. He grabbed Stiles’ hips with his hands and hoisted him up on the counter, sliding his hands under his thighs and bringing them on either side of his waist.

“Derek,” Stiles said, sounding more than a little breathless as Derek pushed his t-shirt up and pressed biting kisses against his stomach. “Can we...I don’t know what you had planned, but can we do this now? Please? I don’t think I can—”

“You can wait,” Derek said, rubbing his stubble against Stiles’ chest before tugging on a pink nipple.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Stiles groaned, drawing in a sharp breath. “You mean wait as in wait ten minutes, right? Because I can wait ten minutes.”

“No. I mean until tonight.”

There was a frustrated noise at that and Derek looked up at him, raising his eyebrows before dropping Stiles’ shirt down. He pressed his hands on both sides of Stiles’ neck, forcing Stiles down to look at him.

“You’re going to wait,” Derek said. “You understand?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s my birthday,” Stiles said. “Shouldn’t I—?”

Derek pressed harder against Stiles’ neck, moving closer to his boy. “Stiles, it’s not up for debate.”

He finally nodded and Derek released his grip, massaging Stiles’ throat with his hand before pressing open-mouthed kisses against it. Stiles was still a little tense, but he relaxed eventually, cautiously bringing a hand up to card through Derek’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles mumbled.

“Just don’t do it again,” Derek ordered. “We won’t have any problems then.”

Derek cupped Stiles’ face in his hands, brushing his thumbs against his skin and smiling at him. Stiles smiled back and Derek pressed a soft kiss to his lips before bringing Stiles’ face into the crook of his neck. His boy latched onto his back, fingers clinging to his shirt.

“How’d things go with Scott?” he asked.

Stiles slumped against him, obviously not wanting to talk about it. But Derek needed to know what had happened. He needed to make sure that Stiles wasn’t going to go back to anyone.

“He said he was worried about me,” Stiles finally said. “He said that I’ve been acting weird lately and that he wants to be friends again. He apologized for talking about Allison non-stop and said that he understood why I had felt left out. I told him about us and how happy you make me and he just didn’t buy it. He thinks you’re a creep for wanting to be with someone younger than you and that you’ve been monopolizing all of my time.”

Scott McCall was a lot smarter than he gave him credit for. He seemed like a good kid, looking out for his friend, apologizing for mistakes, trying to get his friend back. Of course Stiles probably saw it as someone trying to take Derek away from him, someone who wasn’t genuine in their apologizing.

“We have been spending a lot of time together,” Derek said. “You’ve skipped so many lacrosse practices and dinners with your dad.”

“To be with you,” Stiles said, wrapping his arms around Derek’s shoulders and pressing their foreheads together. “I get more time with you and it’s not like I’m missing anything without lacrosse and my dad.”

“Do I really mean that much to you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Derek knew that he did, but he played disbelieving anyway. Stiles bought it though and he almost looked panicked that Derek didn’t seem to fully believe him.

“You’ve gotta believe me, Derek, I-I _love_ you.”

And that was what he had been waiting for.

“I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way or if it’s too early for me to say it, I just—I can’t help how I feel and I’m in love with you. Please don’t be mad.”

“You really mean that?” Derek asked.

“Of course I do,” Stiles said, nodding frantically. “Derek no one’s ever cared about me like you do. No one’s ever looked at me or understood me or…or touched me like you do.”

Derek smiled at that, leaning closer and winding his arms tightly around Stiles’ back. “I love you too. And I have for a while. I was just worried that you wouldn’t feel the same.”

“Really?” Stiles asked.

“Of course,” Derek said. “Why would you doubt that?”

“I don’t know, I’m just—I’m not anything special.”

“Yes you are,” Derek said, kissing Stiles and holding him even tighter. “Tonight I’m going to show you how special you are. I’m going to show you how much I love you. I’m going to take so much time with you Stiles. God, I can’t wait to take you apart, to _finally_ have you.”

“You don’t have to wait until tonight,” Stiles said.

Derek’s hands went to Stiles’ hips at that, clutching them and digging his nails into him. Stiles winced, trying to squirm away, but Derek kept him in place.

“What’d I say about not mentioning that again, Stiles?”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles apologized quickly. “I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry. I just—I’m just really excited to give myself to you. I want to be yours.”

“You already are mine, Stiles.”

“I know, but I want to be completely yours.”

That was the right thing to say and Derek released his grip on Stiles’ hips, moving his hands around to cup Stiles’ ass and scoot him closer to the edge of the counter. He was just about to kiss him when his phone started to ring.

“Ignore it,” Stiles said, but Derek was already reaching into his pocket to answer his phone.

“Hello?”

“Derek, thank God you answered.”

He took a moment to look at his caller ID, noting that it was from one of his coworkers at the bar.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, placing a hand on Stiles’ thigh.

“We just got a huge shipment in today and practically everyone is calling in sick. Can you come down for the day? You’ll get paid for overtime.”

“It’s my day off.”

“I know and I’m sorry, but we really need you down here.”

Derek sighed, wanting nothing more than to hang up and continue his plans with Stiles. But he had an image to uphold and Golden Boy Derek Hale would jump at the chance to help out.

“I’ll be there soon,” he said.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

He hung up and then kissed Stiles’ cheek. “I have to go into work.”

“What?” Stiles asked. “I thought you took today off?”

“I did, but they need me,” he said. “I’ll only be gone a few hours. Stay here, I’ll pick up something to eat on my way home.”

“Okay,” Stiles sighed. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Derek said, smiling before kissing him soundly.

After another round of goodbyes and kisses that weren’t going to end without some very strong self-control, Derek left the apartment.

When he got to the bar it was closed since it was so early, but when he got inside he realized why they needed all of the help they could get. Apparently someone had ordered too much merchandise and the manager was arguing with the deliveryman to get him to take it back. Everyone else was putting up things in normal spots and trying to find placement for others.

Derek got to work carrying boxes and talking with his coworkers who were just as frustrated as he was. He didn’t even know how much time had passed before he dropped a box, the contents sounding like they had shattered. As if this day couldn’t get any worse, he was about to open the box to assess the damage when someone laid a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see one of the waitresses with a very concerned look on her face.

“Derek, are you all right?” she asked. “You don’t look very good.”

“Yeah, man, you look like you’re sick,” someone else chimed in. “Maybe you should head home.”

He was about to protest, say that he felt fine, when he looked down at his hands. Both of them were shaking and it felt like he was breaking out into a sweat. All of a sudden he felt hot and his hands were clammy and his throat was dry and this wasn’t supposed to happen for at least another month.

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

“No, no it’s fine,” he said. “I can drive myself. I’m sorry I came in sick.”

“Don’t worry about it, we pushed you to come, get some rest.”

It seemed like the entire staff wished him to get well as he left the bar, heading toward his Camaro. He slammed the door shut and looked in his rearview mirror. It was just like those times before, he was pale and sweating and his eyes were starting to look a little red. He looked at the clock, realizing that it was a lot later than he had thought. Stiles was probably wondering where he was, but he needed to take care of this first before seeing him.

He pulled out of the parking spot and then headed toward the preserve. It was a Sunday evening and there were bound to be people there. His pocket knife was in his glove compartment and there was a change of clothes in the back. This would have to be a clean kill though since he was going home to Stiles.

There were a few other cars parked at the preserve and he got out before following the trail and looking to see any signs of where someone might have gone. Usually when he did this his mind was relatively clear, but right now everything was foggy. It was like the couple in the tent all over again, he didn’t feel like he had true control over his body, just letting it do what it needed to do to satisfy him.

And it led him in the right place.

Down by the creek was a man, elderly and probably just enjoying a nice Sunday evening. He’d do just fine. Derek was walking toward the man and he turned in greeting, his face friendly before filling with concern. The man never voiced his concern because Derek was snapping his neck before letting him fall in the creek, head bashing on a rock.

That was easy. The old man tripped and his head fell on the rock, neck snapping in the process.

It was an accident, no one would suspect anyone.

He felt better as he walked back to the trail. His throat was fine and his right hand was still, but he was hard and aching in his jeans and his left hand was shaking even more and—

“Where are you?” Stiles asked from the other line and when had Derek picked up his phone?

“Open yourself for me.”

“Wh-What?” Stiles stuttered and Derek could just imagine his face turning red in embarrassment. “Derek, are we seriously having phone sex—?”

“I’m on my way home, you better be ready when I get there.”

He hung up, stuffing the phone in his jacket pocket before getting into the Camaro. The ride home was a blur and he was feeling sicker and hungrier and unsatisfied than ever. He kept his left hand digging into the seat cushion, unable to keep it in his lap due to his erection.

Getting out of the car and entering the apartment didn’t even register to him, he found himself finally focusing when he went into his bedroom. Stiles was on the bed, arms crossed across his chest and nothing but his boxers on. He looked angry and a little upset, but Derek couldn’t even bring himself to care.

Before Stiles could get a word out, Derek turned him over, pushing his boy stomach down on the bed before yanking his boxers down. He pulled his cheeks apart, pressing his thumb against the hole to find it loosened and wet and so fucking ready for him.

Derek stripped out of his clothes as quickly as he could, before lying on top of Stiles and grabbing his hips and—

“Aren’t you gonna lube up your dick or—?” Stiles asked, his words coming out in pants and practically sounding like pleas.

He really didn’t want to prolong this any longer, but he complied, grabbing the bottle of lube from the nightstand before applying it to his dick, trying not to get too caught up in the feel of it. Stiles was probably going to say something else, ask why so suddenly or what happened to taking time with him, but Derek didn’t let him get a word in.

When he finally pushed in he let out a low groan, loving the feel of Stiles warm and wet and clenching and tight around him. Stiles wasn’t in the state of bliss he was in though, voicing that Derek slow down and wait a second, but Derek just ignored him, thrusting again and again and again into his boy.

Eventually Stiles’ pleas to stop and slow down turned into pleas to not stop and Derek was too far gone to even fully comply with or register them. He just continued his relentless thrusts, soaking in the feel of Stiles and his strangled moans and sobs. It was perfect and he couldn’t believe that he had wanted to take his time with Stiles, make things good for his first time. He would one day, but this was what he really wanted, needed.

Soon Stiles came on the comforter below them, panting and crying before just lying there lax and completely at Derek’s mercy. He was close though and it only took a few more thrusts before he was spilling into Stiles.

Derek pulled out of him, turning him around onto his back before slamming their mouths together, swallowing Stiles’ cries and moans. He pushed them toward the top of the bed, making sure Stiles’ head was on the pillow and circling his arms around the shaking boy.

“What-What the fuck was that?” Stiles asked finally, prying himself from Derek and pushing at the shoulders of the older man. “What happened to taking your time tonight?”

“Couldn’t wait,” Derek said. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you at the bar and I just—I had to have you, I couldn’t wait.”

“Good.”

“What?”

“Good, fuckin’ perfect, I don’t even care,” Stiles said. “That was probably the best first time I ever would have gotten.”

“You liked it?”

“I loved it,” Stiles confessed. “I love being at your mercy like that.”

He definitely had picked the right one when he had picked Stiles. His boy was smiling at him, perfectly content and happy that Derek had all but forced himself on him. It had been rough and fast and animalistic, no feelings at all, and Stiles had loved it.

“And I love you,” Stiles continued.

“I love you too,” Derek said, kissing him and feeling Stiles wind his arms around his neck. “And happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

They spent the rest of the day, only leaving to clean off in the bathroom and get something to eat from the kitchen. It was nighttime, almost to Stiles’ curfew, and Stiles was on the phone with the Sheriff.

“Dad, I’m on spring break, I can stay the night, it’s no big deal.”

Stiles had turned the volume down on his phone and Derek couldn’t hear what the Sheriff was saying, but judging by the look Stiles was making, it probably wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“You said you were cool with us being together,” Stiles said. “You like Derek, you told me he’s a good man. Yeah, I know I’m 16, but—Please, Dad.”

Derek reached out, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ stomach and bringing his back to his chest. Stiles leaned into him, a little wrinkle between his eyebrows and an angry look on his face.

“Dad, this is ridiculous,” he said. “I’m not coming home and—”

“Stiles will be home soon, Sheriff.”

Stiles snapped his head around, trying to grab his phone from Derek, but he just brought Stiles closer and shook his head.

“Thanks Derek,” the Sheriff said from the other line.

“Of course,” Derek said before hanging up and handing the phone back to Stiles.

“I thought you wanted me to spend the night.”

“I do with your father’s permission,” Derek said. “I don’t want to get on his bad side.”

“He doesn’t matter, Derek.”

And he didn’t to Stiles, not anymore, but to Derek he did. He needed to stay on his good side and that was even more pivotal now that he was seeing Stiles.

“Go home, Stiles,” Derek said. “Or I won’t give you your birthday present.”

“Fucking me wasn’t my present?”

“That was part of it.”

He leaned over to the nightstand, taking out a small box that he had put there weeks ago. Derek handed it to Stiles, not even needing to usher Stiles to open it since he already was.

“Is this a key to your apartment?” Stiles asked, looking from the box and then to Derek, his eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Derek said. “What’s mine is yours.”

And that really got Stiles to smile.


	5. Chapter 5

It was September and it had been five months of nothing but Derek getting everything that he wanted.

Stiles was on summer break for all of June, July, and most of August before starting his junior year. Derek had started med school last week and things were going just fine.

Things were going so fine that he could convince himself some days that everything was average, almost boring.

The summer had been the best summer of his life, working early shifts so that he could have Stiles all to himself every night, wrapped up in his sheets and only for him. Of course every Wednesday they had dinner with the Sheriff, but soon even that wasn’t that bad. The Sheriff trusted him not only as a person, but he trusted him with Stiles.

He had continued his Sunday ceremony only twice, never waiting for it to get so bad that he was sweating and shaking. And he was getting better at making the kills look more and more like accidents. The deaths saddened the town, but none of them were met with anger or fear; fatal accidents happened and no one could do anything in the end.

In July, when Beacon Hills had been at its hottest, Derek had taken Stiles to the remains of his house. They had walked through the first floor and Derek had identified specific rooms and had given a random memory to each one. It was nice, coming back to his family and seeing what had been before he had burned it all down.

On a Sunday in August he had taken his uncle off life support. It was sad that he couldn’t have finished Peter off in a grand way like he had with Laura, but it was the best he could do. He had spent a week in his apartment after that, pretending to mourn and be in a great state of distress. Everyone in Beacon Hills soon realized that Derek Hale didn’t have any family left, and if that did anything, it only further glorified his status in the town.

And now it was Friday morning and Stiles was in his bed, face in the pillow and groaning when Derek tried to wake him up.

“You’re going to be late to school,” Derek said, running a hand through Stiles’ recently grown-out hair.

(Derek had been the one to suggest that he grow it out—Stiles hadn’t even questioned it when he had agreed.)

“I’ll skip,” Stiles said, turning his head to the side and looking at Derek. “We should just spend the day in bed like we did a few weeks ago.”

“I wish we could, but I have class,” Derek said. “And you shouldn’t skip anymore days. It’s only September and I’ve lost track of how many classes you’ve missed.”

“You sound like my dad.”

“Your dad’s right.”

“I hate it when you get like this,” Stiles said.

“Like what?”

“Bossy.”

Derek grinned at that, stroking his hands up and down Stiles’ side and moving to his ear. “I thought you liked it when I’m bossy.”

He could tell that Stiles was trying to suppress a shiver and when Stiles turned over to his back he was blushing. “You know that I do, but that’s when you’re fucking me, not when you’re telling me to go to school.”

“Stiles.”

“Yes?”

“Get dressed.”

“Those are two words I’d never thought you’d say to me.”

Eventually Stiles got out of bed, glaring at Derek before heading into the bathroom. He couldn’t even remember when the Sheriff had started letting Stiles sleep over, but it had been happening for a while. Stiles saw less and less of his dad and less of school due to his constant absences. Derek still encouraged him to do his homework though and he knew that Stiles was smart enough to not get behind on the school work.

He was skimming through the newspaper in the kitchen and drinking coffee when Stiles was finally ready to go. His hair was damp from the shower and he still looked sleepy (probably from Derek keeping him up till 2 AM), but he was awake.

Stiles leaned against Derek’s back, making a face when he smelled the coffee. “How can you drink that shit?”

“I like it,” he shrugged. “Have you ever even tried it?”

“Once and it was disgusting,” Stiles said. “I think I’ll stick to milk.”

Derek leaned against the counter, watching Stiles move around his kitchen. It was perfect, Stiles treating his apartment like it was a second home. He loved how easily Stiles fit into it and he hated how it felt so empty when Stiles wasn’t there.

“You’re going to be late,” Derek said.

“I’m always late.”

And that was very true.

Stiles grabbed his backpack and went to Derek, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him. It was brief like always and Derek let Stiles pull away after just a few seconds.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Derek said.

“Can’t wait.”

And Derek knew that he really couldn’t, that he was just so reliant of Derek’s presence that waiting to see him and being away from him seemed like impossible tasks.

He smiled, nodding in goodbye before Stiles left the apartment, looking behind him at Derek several times before closing the door.

The apartment was quiet now. Lifeless and empty and even cold. Derek sighed, heading back into his room to get ready for school. He had only been going for a week and he was quickly adjusting. He would have thanked Laura for pointing him back toward Beacon Hills and the school, but he couldn’t exactly show his gratitude now.

He went to his classes, taking notes and getting to know his professors and fellow students. Since the school was just outside of Beacon Hills not a lot of people knew who he was, but there were still a few who looked at him knowingly. And pityingly. And some even admiringly.

 After classes he got lunch on campus and flipped through the calendar on his phone. He’d have to kill again on Sunday. Maybe he’d go deeper into the preserve, find another camper or hiker. It’d be so easy to make it look like a mountain lion attack or… or like they had been trampled.

He flexed his left hand, grinning. It wasn’t like Derek wasn’t capable of beating someone to death and making it look like a natural accident. He knew what he looked like, knew what his strong body was able to do, was reminded of it every time Stiles’ eyes lingered on him when he thought he wasn’t looking.

It’d be a risk, seeing as he’d never done it before, but stabbing and neck breaking was getting boring and he needed to find new ways to satisfy himself, to keep himself entertained.

Because as soon as he stopped being entertained he would go after Stiles and there was no way he was going to give his boy up so soon.

As soon as the thought passed his mind, his phone vibrated in his hand and a picture of Stiles popped up on the screen. He smiled, sliding his thumb across the bottom of the screen to answer it.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” he asked, leaning back against his chair.

“Lunch,” Stiles said. “You’re done for the day, right?”

“Yeah, I’m still on campus though,” Derek said. “You shouldn’t be calling me during school, Stiles.”

“Lunch,” Stiles repeated, making it sound like the answer to everything. “I know that in a few hours it’ll be the weekend and I’ll never have to be away from you until Monday morning, but I miss you.”

“It’s only been a few hours.”

“I know and it’ll only be a few more hours, but I just needed to hear your voice. Is that such a crime?”

“Of course not,” Derek said. “Just come to the apartment right after school. I’ll make dinner tonight.”

“Oh God, please don’t,” Stiles said. “I’ll make it, you can’t cook.”

“I can cook.”

“No you can’t.”

“Yes I can.”

“You can make toast and rice and cereal.”

“I can make more than that.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Stiles laughed. “Either you’re buying takeout or I’m cooking.”

“Fine, I’ll get takeout,” Derek said.

Stiles let out an exaggerated sigh of relief and Derek could just picture him, sitting alone at his lunch table and talking into his phone with a smile on his face because he was talking to Derek and no one made him happy like Derek did.

And no one ever would.

They hung up after a few more minutes and Derek got his things together, getting ready to head back home. Traffic was hell and he finally reached the apartment later than he would have liked, already seeing Stiles’ Jeep in the parking lot. High school hadn’t even let out yet.

Once he entered his apartment he heard Stiles moving around the kitchen and pots clanging together. He made his way to the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe and watching Stiles move around before he made his presence known.

“I said I would get takeout.”

He really would never tire of watching Stiles get so startled, eyes widening and hand flying to his chest. “Jesus, Derek, you—”

“Shouldn’t you still be at school?”

“Last period’s study hall,” Stiles said. “I skipped and you should really work on not sneaking up on me.”

“I like sneaking up on you.”

“Really?” Stiles asked. “Hadn’t noticed.”

Derek had stopped trying to extract the sarcasm from Stiles, accepting that it was something ingrained inside of him. Besides, he liked the sarcasm and without it Stiles wouldn’t be his Stiles.

“What are you making?”

“I don’t even know yet,” Stiles said. “Any suggestions?”

“Whatever you feel like making is fine by me,” Derek said, taking Stiles’ face in his hands and kissing him.

“You can be really cheesy when you wanna be,” Stiles said.

“I try.”

**OoOoOoO**

Even though Sunday was the day he felt ownership of, the day he felt in charge of, that didn’t stop him from favoring Saturdays. Because of Saturdays he could sleep in late and wake up to Stiles in the afternoon and they wouldn’t have to go anywhere. The Sheriff wouldn’t be calling to make sure Stiles was okay and it could just be the two of them completely away from the outside world.

Like it should be.

And now it was perfect, Stiles lying next to him and tangled in his sheets with his eyes sleepily blinking open and looking at Derek before smiling. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Derek said, kissing his forehead.

“So this is nice,” Stiles said, stretching. “It’s Saturday and you’re not trying to get me to go to school.”

“It’s also noon and you’d be a little late to school if you were just now waking up.”

“Very true,” Stiles said.

Derek smiled, taking Stiles’ chin and tilting his head up to kiss him. Stiles hummed into it before winding his arms around Derek’s neck and pulling him on top of him. They continued kissing, just enjoying the feel of Stiles’ bare skin against his and the little contented noises his boy kept making.

And of course after a while it got heated, Stiles’ fingernails digging into his back as he rutted against him.

“Fuck, _Derek_ ,” Stiles groaned, holding onto him tightly.

“Yeah?” Derek asked, kissing him again and plundering his tongue inside of the boy’s mouth, feeling him shudder against him.

“Just—I don’t even know. Just don’t fuckin’ st—”

But Derek did stop, rolling off of Stiles and grinning at his shocked face. “Why did you—?”

“Stop?” Derek supplied. “I’m in the mood for breakfast.”

Stiles just continued to look at him, mouth gaping open as Derek got out of the bed and pulled his underwear on.

“No,” Stiles said. “No, come back to bed. Fuck me, I don’t care, just make me come, you asshole.”

As soon as he said that it was clear that he regretted it. And he should have too. Derek felt his eyebrows knit together as he sat on the edge of the bed next to Stiles.

“Sorry,” Stiles said quickly. “I’m just horny and sleepy and hungry and you kind of left me right on the… I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I didn’t— _mmph_!”

Derek grabbed the back of his head and crashed their mouths together, fingernails piercing the back of his head. Stiles let out a little noise of discomfort and when Derek pulled away he saw his boy’s eyes squeezing shut, tears at the corners.

He frowned in sympathy, rubbing his fingers on the back of Stiles’ head and leaning forward to kiss the corner of his eyes. “You know better. You know I don’t liking doing things like this, but you know better, Stiles.”

“I’m sorry for disappointing you, Derek,” Stiles said shakily, slowly blinking his eyes open. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good,” Derek said, bringing Stiles’ face to the crook of his neck. “Good boy.”

He moved away from the bed again, heading toward the door of the bedroom. Turning around once more he saw Stiles sitting there, face red and bringing a hand to the back of his head. When he brought his hand in front of him again there were small droplets of blood there.

And Derek tried to ignore how good it looked against Stiles’ pale skin.

**OoOoOoO**

The last two kills had happened on Sunday nights. This Sunday was different though. It was morning and it reminded him back to his earlier kills. He remembered the birds and the rabbits and the does. The first girl he had ever killed was still a fond memory, back when he had no idea what he was doing but still was able to get away with it.

He got out of his Camaro, knife a familiar light weight in his pocket. There weren’t any other cars in the parking area for the preserve, but that was fine. He could wait.

Derek walked down the path, enjoying the fresh air and the nature around him. Everything always felt so pure here. He was calm and he could breathe and his head was clear. He had missed these mornings and part of him even missed the old family house. Waking up before everyone else, going out on Sundays to kill, coming back to a skeptical Laura and breakfast already made. His chest almost ached at the thought; his entire family was dead because of him.

Oh well. They would have all died eventually.

The nostalgia was getting to him though and he couldn’t see the harm of visiting the old house. He had gone back there a few times before, but going back on a Sunday morning just felt right.

Derek followed the path to his old house, taking it quietly and slowly, just taking his time. A few birds were chirping in the trees and a rabbit ran past and he felt his right hand twitch. But those animals wouldn’t do anything for him and they would just be a waste.

Once he made it to his house he instantly knew that something was off. The front door was open and there was a bag on the front porch. He frowned, heading up the steps and entering the foyer. Everything was quiet for about five seconds before there was a creak coming from the sitting room. He entered cautiously, hand wrapped around his knife in his pocket. The room was empty except for the old battered couch in the middle of the room and another bag at the end. Apparently someone was squatting.

A homeless person, someone no one would miss, that was almost too perfect.

He headed into the hallway off of the room, taking a turn into a room that had the entire back wall burned away. A man was standing there, about to leave through the opening when Derek leaned against the wall, clearing his throat.

The man turned around, seeing Derek and instantly becoming panicked.

“Oh, hi,” he said, looking like he was about to vibrate out of his skin. “Um, I was just leaving and—”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Derek said, walking toward him.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave.”

“Yeah, you will leave,” Derek said, stopping just in front of the man. “Just not in the way you think you will.”

He took his knife out and the man looked at it in horror before looking over Derek’s shoulder with even more horror. But Derek didn’t even turn around to see what the man was looking at, taking the knife and stabbing the man in the heart. He had considered his beating method, but that would be a little too obvious that he hadn’t been trampled in the burned down Hale house. And Derek didn’t really feel like moving the body. This was—

There was a clicking noise behind him.

It sounded exactly like someone taking off the safety of a gun.

“You followed me,” Derek said, raising his hands up and slowly turning around.

“Yeah.”

“How long have you suspected?”

“Ever since my dad said that you took a walk when your house was burned down and Kate Argent was found dead.”

“Smart boy.”

“Shut up.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at that, smiling as he watched Stiles stand in the middle of the room with a gun pointed at him. His boy was shaking and he looked scared out of his mind, but something about him was resigned, like he was determined to not run away or break down.

“How long have you been certain?”

“I’m not going to answer that.”

“How long have you known that the person fucking you was a serial killer?”

“Shut up, Derek.”

“You’re not going to kill me.”

“Shut up.”

“And you’re not going to turn me into your dad.”

“Shut up.”

“Because you would have done that by now,” Derek said, taking a step forward.

Stiles almost seized up at that, clearly not expecting Derek to actually move. Derek knew that originally Stiles wasn’t a coward, probably wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot him. But Derek was all Stiles had and his boy couldn’t manage without him. He had broken him and he had won.

“Don’t come any closer.”

“Stiles, you’re crying,” Derek said, continuing to walk closer and seeing the tears well up in Stiles’ eyes.

“I’m not—I’m…”

Derek took a final step forward, the gun pressing to his chest. This seemed to make Stiles shake even harder and his eyes widened in a mixture of fear and hatred and _love_. Because of course Stiles couldn’t stop loving him, Derek was everything he knew anymore.

“Shoot me,” Derek said. “Go on, that’s why you followed me.”

“That’s not why I—shut up.”

“Talk to me, Stiles.”

“No.”

“I want to understand.”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

Derek just nodded, not even going to argue.

“I fuckin’ hate you.”

“I love you.”

“You—you _asshole_ ,” Stiles said. “I was—Everything was going to be fine, I was going to be fine. I was going to be invisible but I would have my best friend and my dad and neither of them even look at me anymore. I’d make Valedictorian and go to some Ivy League college and lose my virginity to some random guy and maybe fall in love or maybe be alone for the rest of my life. But then you showed up and you kissed me and made me feel so fuckin’ special and loved and… and you’re a fucking serial killer and you’re probably going to kill me and—”

“And what?” Derek asked.

“I love you,” Stiles choked out. “I _love_ you and I can’t… I’m so fucking messed up because of you, you ruined me, Derek. I don’t have anything or anyone and if you leave me, I don’t… Please don’t leave me.”

“I’ll never leave you, Stiles,” Derek said, stepping even closer and smiling when Stiles dropped the gun to his side. “You’re mine. You’re all mine and I’ll never let you go. And I’ll make sure you never leave me.”

The gun dropped to the floor and brought his hands up to cup Stiles’ face, the blood from his hands smearing on his cheeks. Stiles was still crying and he still looked terrified but he had calmed down some, just shaking and hiccupping.

“You’re a murderer,” Stiles said softly. “You’ve killed so many people.”

“I just do what I have to do,” Derek shrugged, pressing himself even closer to Stiles.

And he definitely enjoyed Stiles blushing and widening his eyes and letting his mouth fall open in surprise. Derek knew what Stiles felt, that he knew how hard and wanting Derek was. Initially he had thought it a burden to get so aroused after killing, but now he couldn’t see it as a burden. Because now Stiles was here and Stiles would never say no to him.

Derek brought Stiles’ mouth to his and his boy made a small noise of discomfort before relaxing, letting Derek knew what he needed to do. He pushed the boy to his knees, looking at the body at the other side of the room and feeling another wave of arousal rush through him. God, this was almost everything he’d ever wanted. If only he could fuck Stiles, but he didn’t have anything with him and Stiles crying out in pure pain didn’t sound appealing.

Well it did, but it only sounded appealing when Derek would be killing him.

“I want your mouth,” Derek said gruffly, undoing his pants and pushing them down a bit before taking out his erection.

It was clear that Stiles wasn’t in his right mind. He was still shaking and tears were streaming down his face but Derek ordering him around seemed to strike something within him. It was almost as if he was on autopilot, taking the base of Derek’s dick in his hand before bringing it into his mouth.

Derek let out a low moan, tangling his fingers through Stiles hair and forcing Stiles to take even more of him. His boy’s eyes squeezed shut and even more tears fell as Derek fucked into his mouth. Stiles wasn’t even doing anything at that point, just kneeling there and letting Derek use him just how he liked.

And that was really how things were always going to be.

He continued thrusting into him before Stiles finally started to reciprocate, tentatively placing his hands on Derek’s hips and starting to work his mouth around Derek. And that was good. Stiles was all his and he knew that, now that he knew that truth things could only get better.

Eventually he spilled into Stiles’ mouth, letting out a deep groan. He pulled away, enjoying watching Stiles wipe his mouth and panting and crying and _hard_. Just one look at the bulge in Stiles’ jeans was all Derek needed before he pushed Stiles onto his back on the hard wooden floor.

Stiles looked a little out of it for a few seconds before quickly looking over at the body at the opposite end of the room.

“Ignore it,” Derek said. “Just let me take care of you.”

That seemed to frighten Stiles even more, especially since Derek was taking his knife out, ripping Stiles’ shirt and pushing the fabric aside to expose his pale flushed skin.

“Please don’t—”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Derek assured, running the blade lightly across Stiles’ chest, watching the blood from the knife trickle down his skin. “Not yet anyway.”

He pricked the knife against Stiles’ shoulder. His boy’s breath hitched and he winced but Derek just leaned down, sucking on the droplets of blood and the skin. Stiles’ hand came up to Derek’s hair and he let out a low keen, pressing up into Derek.

Derek slit a thin line above Stiles’ hipbone and the boy practically panted when Derek ran his tongue along the cut. He nibbled against it, the taste of blood filling his mouth and the sounds of Stiles unraveling more than he ever had filling the shell of a house.

“Please, Derek. Just—oh, _God_ ,” Stiles whined, writhing on the floor as Derek pricked just under a nipple before sucking again.

“I’m going to scar you up,” Derek said, cutting a circle around Stiles’ navel. “All just for me. No one else is going to see you.”

“No one,” Stiles panted, nodding frantically as Derek finally placed his hand on Stiles through his jeans.

“Good boy,” Derek said, licking the blood welling up around Stiles’ belly button before rubbing him through his jeans.

Just a few firm rubs and Stiles was letting out a litany of wet moans before coming in his pants. Derek went up to kiss him and Stiles all but forced his tongue in his mouth, groaning when he tasted his blood on Derek’s lips.

“You-You’re fuckin’ crazy,” Stiles panted.

“Crazy for you,” Derek said, grinning and going in for another kiss.

Stiles shook his head, smiling back up at him and bringing a hand to Derek’s cheek. “How can you be so corny after killing someone and having a gun held to you?”

“Just who I am,” Derek said. “Let’s go home, I want to fuck you. I want to make you bleed more too, see how much you can really take.”

“Everything, Derek,” Stiles promised. “You’re everything and I’ll take everything and-and…”

Apparently nothing else needed to be said after that because Stiles just leaned up again, kissing Derek and gripping onto him tightly.

“Stiles,” Derek said, pulling away from his boy and looking down at him. “You do realize I’m going to kill you one day, don’t you?”

He needed to make that clear. Because despite Stiles being so accepting and all right with it all, he needed to know. Confirmation was something Derek desperately needed. When the time did come for Stiles to die, he wanted his boy to at least understand.

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles nodded. “One day, but not now, not soon.”

Derek smiled at that, leaning down at kiss him again when Stiles stopped him.

“But when that happens, you’re gonna have to kill yourself afterward,” Stiles said. “Because after me what do you have left?”

And Stiles had a point there.

Because just how he had isolated Stiles from everyone, he had also isolated himself.

That was fine though, because they would meet their ends together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's finally done! Sorry this update took longer, but I hope you liked the ending! Thanks for reading and hopefully you guys will stick around for my (fluffier, lighter, probably still smutty) future stuff. :))


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